


Rite of the Maleficarum

by Amailia



Series: Maleficarum [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Adventure, Blood Magic, Drama, F/M, Humor, Kirkwall, Mages, Magic, Minor Anders/Hawke, Minor Violence, Romance, Slow Burn, Templars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 40,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5832787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amailia/pseuds/Amailia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*My first attempt at fan fiction and my first attempt at writing anything of significant length*</p><p>Takes place between Acts II and III of Dragon Age II. Book I of a series.</p><p>Five weeks after dueling the Arishok to the death, Hawke finds herself inundated with requests for assistance as tensions between the templars and mages culminate. Intrigued by the unique situation of a lord, Hawke agrees to help find his missing son, not realizing the dangerous path it will lead them down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lord's Son

_The city-state of Kirkwall was in turmoil. With the threat of Qunari invasion thwarted by the Champion, there was a brief whisper of peace. But like the warm Waking Sea winds that swept up the docks, encircled the vhenadahl in the Elven Alienage, beat up the steps of Lowtown, and finally clawed its way between the stone mansions of Hightown, it was gone before it could land at the doorstep of the Viscount's Keep._

Aralynn Hawke removed her hood as she sat down on a shabby stool in the darkest corner of the Hanged Man. It had been almost five weeks since she had dueled the Arishok to the death. A relief for the city-state, it seemed, until the realization of what was lingering beneath it. The impending threat of foreign invaders had acted like the fisher's nets that stretched across the Dark Corridor, holding at bay a volatile truth: templars and mages were at war. Though they hadn't taken it outright to the streets, there was more than substance to the whisperings heard at the Hanged Man, the Blooming Rose, Darktown, the markets, even within the Chantry's doors. Hawke could not go anywhere without hearing about it, and she found herself inundated with requests for assistance.

With this realization unearthed, nothing was predictable, and nothing was safe. Husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, sons and daughters came crawling out of the stonework looking for the Champion's aid. Either their charge was an innocent mage, trapped and oppressed by the circle, or a templar made to take actions against his or her will, or gone mad craving lyrium. Some were neither, simply city workers whose unfortunate assignments had placed them dangerously close to the unrest. She certainly couldn't help them all, and no decision was eased by her ardency, as she had not formed an opinion on the matter. She wanted to help all those she could, right wrongs, save innocents, and kill those responsible for all the terrible deeds of Thedas. However, there was no right or wrong to this conflict. She knew deep down there was nothing she, the Champion of Kirkwall, could do to help them. Each side was right and each side was wrong and in the end anything she did to help either would do nothing but fuel a fire that was already burning too hot.

There was one story however, too compelling for her to ignore. She had arranged to meet the man here, where people might be more discreet, rather than having the conversation in the Hightown market where both Knight-Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino had ears. Aralynn heard the stool next to her scrape the ground, and an elderly man wearing a full-length cloak, likely to hide his noble garb, sat down next to her.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Hawke," his voice was gravely with age.

"Of course. Your story sounds… unique," she signaled the bartender to bring them two pints. He ran his fingers through his white-speckled grey hair, rubbed his knuckles, and generally looked guilty as he waited.

"Relax, Lord Restin, we're quite anonymous here, I assure you," Hawke said. He raised an eyebrow at that.

"Well,  _you_  are," she corrected. The pints arrived and Lord Restin scooped up the mug and gulped down half before Hawke could even slide the coppers across the bar.

"I have a friend with a room here, if it will make you more comfortable to speak in private," Hawke suggested. Lord Restin, nodded, darting a look around the room nervously. She took her mug and led the Lord to the back of the bar and up the stairs. She rapped quickly on Varric's door, it squeaked open a moment later.

"Hawke! You know you can just come in, I'm not up to anything gruesome in here, I assure you," Varric bawled, and Hawke gave him a wry look.

"Of course, Ser Varric, however I have a guest," she inclined her head to Lord Restin who hovered anxiously behind her, "We were hoping you would lend us your private quarters for quick meeting." Varric raised his eyebrows, noticing the man's expensive tunic peaking out from underneath his cloak.

"Of course, Lady Hawke. I needed an ale anyways," Varric said, scuttling out the door. Hawke lead Lord Restin to Varric's dwarven-style dining table, and motioned for him to take a seat. He sat, looking a bit more comfortable now that they were in private. Hawke was growing much more curious about whatever it was he had to say, to drive a quite powerful Lord of Kirkwall to such apprehension.

"I'm going to need some more details about the situation, it'd be best if you could start from the beginning. Any information you can give me would be helpful, even if it seems irrelevant," Hawke coaxed. Lord Restin nodded, then spoke quite softly, something made worse by the grit in his voice.

"My son, Ansor, starting showing symptoms of magic around age eight. My wife, Petula and I were afraid… we didn't want our son taken from us. At the time the Circle was more… stable, but we had still heard tales of its injustices. We didn't want Ansor to suffer. Petula, Maker rest her soul, believed it a sickness, something the Maker cursed us with to punish us for our sins. She wanted to place him with the Chantry so he could atone. We did, and for years we prayed and watched over him, but nothing changed," he scoffed, taking a swig of his pint. "Stupid I know, but we were so desperate. Ansor was too, he always had more in common with his mother. He wanted to please her, to be able to show her that her faith in the Maker was able to cure him. He was absolutely resolute that it was the right solution, and fervently wanted to stay to prove the method's worth. I believe this resolve was what gave him the strength to control his abilities. Even when he was young he was good at controlling his emotions, Maker bless him, and that's what saved him for all those years."

"Has the Chantry found out? That he's a mage?" Hawke asked, stunned by his admission.

"Maker, no, child. There would be nothing even you could do if that were the case. And the story gets worse, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry, Lord Restin, go on."

"After almost ten years at the Chantry, it became clear that his abilities were not diminishing. If anything they became more and more difficult for him to predict and control. Petula became very depressed. Every day she got up, went to the Chantry to pray for his soul, came home, and went to bed. She wasn't eating, hardly sleeping. I already felt like I had lost my son, I couldn't watch her waste away anymore. So we discussed our options - sending him to the Chantry in Orlais, letting him go to Tevinter, giving up and having him join the Circle, so we would at least have him near us. Petula wanted to try and hide him with some relatives in Antiva. It was her suggestion of hiding him that sparked a thought in me, so I suggested to Ansor that he join the Templar Order."

Hawke almost spit out the mouth full of ale she was about to swallow, but managed to get it down with only a mild fit of coughing and hacking. A mage disguised as a templar? Was that even possible? Lord Restin went on, as if Hawke wasn't causing a ruckus.

"Petula was furious, at first, she thought it too risky." Hawke found herself nodding in agreement. "I thought if he was hidden, right under their noses, they may never see him at all. For Petula it was still about atonement, but for me, I just wanted him safe. As a templar he was able to see the training the mages go through to learn to control their powers, and it was exactly what he needed to continue to be able to conceal his own. And it's worked, for almost ten years. But now, this mage friend of his, Irinna… she's all but outright seduced him."

"Are they romantically involved?" Hawke asked.

"Not as far as I know, but it would not surprise me. She is all he has talked about of late. I don't know specifics about where they've gone, only what was written in his most recent letter," he dug the note out of his pocket and slid it across the table to Hawke, "In the letter, he mentions that he thought Irinna could help him, and would be leaving Kirkwall for a short time to pursue the method. He wanted to me to know so I didn't worry, but warned me not to tell anyone, that it could have dire consequences if anyone found out. But it's been almost over a week since I've heard from him and… my patience has worn out. How, or in what way this mage could help him, I am not certain, but anything that would make my boy leave Kirkwall… it can't be good, Hawke. I've heard rumors about this woman, Irinna. People say she was a known apostate in Ferelden before the blight. That she used blood magic." Lord Restin looked pale.

"So when you said that your devout son had run away with his circle-mage friend, you meant, your 'Templar-who-is-also-a-mage' son ran away with his maleficar friend?" Hawke asked dryly.

Lord Restin grimaced, "Yes, something like that. I'm sorry Hawke, I know it's a difficult situation, and I understand if it's too risky for you."

"Of course not," Hawke shook her head, "I'm just... surprised by the specifics, that's all."

"One last thing. Please do not tell Ansor that his mother has passed."

Hawke was shocked, "He doesn't know?"

"I'm ashamed, and I know, I should be. But she is everything to that boy, and I was afraid that if he found out… that the trauma would be all it would take."

Hawke nodded, "For him to lose control?"

"Precisely. Please, do what you can for my boy. Thank you, Champion." The gruff man rose and extended his hand across the table. Hawke stood and shook it firmly, nodding. Lord Restin raised his hood and quietly made his exit.

Hawke stared after him for a moment, still a little shocked by what she had learned. His last words rang in her head. It was not what she intended, becoming the Champion of Kirkwall. She never sought glory or power. She merely wanted to utilize the second chance at life the Maker had granted her. As her new life in Kirkwall progressed, she found it more difficult to understand the Maker's guidance. All around her, terrible things happened and those she loved vanished – her father, mother, brother and sister all dead, and treacherous Isabela, disappearing into the night. She sometimes felt very alone in her cold, stone mansion in Hightown. These moments permeated her thoughts. Her world shrank in them. They were never about invasions or unrest, blights or dragons, politics or dignitaries, mages or templars… or templar mages. They were just about Aralynn Hawke, the warrior refugee from Ferelden who had lost her family.

It was never long before the moment concluded. Sandal would break something, Bodahn would scold the dog, Fenris would be by with yet another sample of wine found in his cellar, Varric to boast about an improvement he made to Bianca, Anders looking for some time away from the troubles of Darktown, Sebastian to have a philosophical discussion, Aveline to protest another arrant injustice. And she'd quickly remember all she did have, despite all she'd lost. This helped, the juxtaposition. She could see again her purpose, her direction. She had another family now, though they could never truly replace the first. They were sometimes frustrating, ridiculous and overly infuriated at or by one another, but they were also supportive, forgiving and kind. This unlikely group of companions, who certainly should have scattered to the winds years ago, was somehow still together. They had more than just Hawke in common; she refused to take credit for their unity. They were all there to be part of something, something that was greater than the sum of its parts. They were stronger, despite their differences, when they were together.


	2. Gathering the Party

"That's ridiculous," Fenris spouted in his usual coarse tone.

Anders looked equally shocked, but his expression gradually shifted to amusement. "It's genius, really," he smiled, "That kid must have some steely resolve, hiding his abilities amongst all those mages… and templars… and lyrium."

"Well, he was a Chantry boy. Speaking of which, if you two deign to join me, we have one last stop to make," Hawke said as she finished strapping on one of her pauldrons.

"Of course, Hawke," Fenris managed, spurring her to turn tail and push out through the front door of his Hightown mansion. She began to make her way toward the entrance of the Chantry.

"How would something like that even be possible?" he wondered aloud.

"It's the truth, apparently," Hawke said, "I don't see what he has to gain in lying about something like that."

"True," Anders pondered, trailing along behind the two. Honestly, Hawke didn't know what to think. Who had ever heard of such a thing? She couldn't decide what the outcome would be if anyone found out. It could show that mages do have the ability to control themselves. It would also show unassailable weakness in the Templar Order. And give some potentially dangerous mages some very dangerous ideas.

She stopped at the foot of the Chantry steps, handing her remaining pauldron to Fenris, who began to strap it on her. "Let's keep the concept to ourselves for now, I think there's enough trepidation in that particular area," Hawke suggested.

"Seems like a solid idea to me," Anders agreed. Fenris finished up and the trio made their way up the steps.

Before they reached the doors, Hawke stopped them, "Wait out here, if that's alright, this may require some finesse."

Anders feigned shock, "What? Your favorite renegade apostate and barefoot, lyrium-imbued elf friends lack the subtlety to speak to the devout?"

Fenris looked like he was going to kill him. Hawke took her chances and went inside.

She found Sebastian kneeling in prayer. This seemed to be his activity of choice lately, more often than not. Hawke waited silently near the steps that lead up to the foot of the towering armor-clad statue of Andraste, gold light ringing beautifully in the late afternoon sun. She couldn't help but think of the statue of the Champion that was erected near the docks. She could never compare herself to the bride of the Maker, but in a town of roughly two statues, it made her rather uncomfortable to think that one was of her. She remembered when she first stumbled upon it while helping out on a patrol duty for the Guard. Anders had remarked that he recalled her helm at the time as looking "far more dumb", Fenris had reprimanded him grumpily, and Aveline had called it "a regal depiction". She'd never wanted more to find a hole to curl up and die in, and found solace only in the fact that it was night, and anyone else they encountered who had seen it would most likely be someone she was there to kill.

The sunlight through the stained glass was causing the room to grow quite warm, and Hawke was beginning to regret the decision to armor up before coming. Sebastian seemed to take her inclination as a cue and finished his prayer, standing up. He noticed Hawke almost immediately and approached her, his beautifully crafted white armor momentarily blinding her.

"Good day, Champion of Kirkwall," Sebastian enjoyed poking fun at her insecurities.

Hawke did her best plate-armor curtsy and replied, "Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven, I presume?" Sebastian smiled and leaned against the wall next to her.

"What can I help you with, Hawke?"

"I was wondering if you knew anyone at the Chantry who has been here for over ten years, other than the Grand Cleric of course. Someone that might have had a friendship with one of the brothers at the time?"

"Anyone in particular?"

"His name is Ansor Restin, he was an initiate about ten years ago. His father is a Lord of Kirkwall."

"Oh, he's a templar now, right? I've seen him in here quite a bit, he's very devout. I see him speaking with Sister Greysa often. What's this about, Hawke?"

"I can't really speak about it here, sorry, Sebastian. I'll update you after we find out more?"

"Of course, Hawke."

"Is there somewhere a little more private we can speak with Sister Greysa?"

"I'll get her, meet us upstairs under the windows."

Hawke nodded and made her way upstairs. Before now she hadn't really thought of what Sebastian's reaction to this situation might be. However sincere their intentions, she could see how Sebastian would take offense to someone using the Chantry in such a way. She could only hope he would feel compassion for their situation; they were after all, quite a pious bunch. It only took moments before Sebastian appeared around the corner, being trailed by a rather meek looking Sister in traditional Chantry attire. She nodded her head in respect as she approached Hawke, and Hawke returned the gesture.

"Sister Greysa, thank you very much for agreeing to speak with me."

"Of course, Messere Hawke. You have done Kirkwall a great service, anything I can do to help I certainly shall."

"I'm inquiring about a Templar named Ansor Restin, he was a Brother until about nine or ten years ago. Did you know him then?"

"Unfortunately, no Messere, I've only been at the Kirkwall Chantry for two years. I met him almost immediately after my arrival, however. I never see any templar in here more often, he's very devout."

"What did you speak about?"

"He often wanted guidance, he was very torn over a situation he was in. He trusted in my discretion, however, I wouldn't want to speak his confidences, I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, Sister Greysa," Sebastian interjected, "We would never ask you to betray your word."

"I haven't seen him here for over a week, is he in some kind of trouble?"

Hawke nodded gravely, "I'm afraid he's gone missing. His father, Lord Restin, is quite worried. I was hoping you could tell me something about where he may have gone. I know from his father that he had kindled a friendship with one of the circle mages, Irinna?"

Sister Greysa looked pale, "He hadn't spoke of her, I'm afraid. He never mentioned associating with circle mages at all, and certainly never spoke of any life he may have had outside of being a templar. I'm sorry, Messere."

"That's quite alright, Sister, thank you for your time," Hawke turned to go when the Sister seemed to remember something.

"Oh, one thing, Messere. His mother, she came to the Chantry quite often as well, until about a month ago. I probably shouldn't mention it, but I know that he was paying a lay-brother to inform him of when she was here and when she left. I don't know who, or why," Sister Greysa looked saddened by her admission, "Maybe he would know more?"

"Thank you, Sister Greysa, that is very helpful indeed," Hawke inclined her head respectfully and exchanged glances with Sebastian. He looked slightly alarmed but also inclined his head as Sister Greysa turned to leave.

Sebastian turned back to Hawke, sighing. "I have a pretty good idea of who that lay-brother might be."


	3. Venturing Forth

For Fenris, it always seemed to come back to blood magic. If there was a mage involved, so was the filthy practice. He had met one mage that he honestly believed would have never resorted to it, Hawke's sister Bethany. However, Fenris had watched that pure soul die in Hawke's arms in the Deep Roads, infected by the taint. It is said that the first darkspawn were created due to the sin of the blood magic-wielding Tevinter magisters. In a way, Fenris supposed, blood magic killed Bethany. Inescapable.

To be fair, this mission had it from the beginning. Fenris knew Hawke would never stand for it, she had always been adamantly against the use of such magics. But things were not always as they seemed, and this situation was leading deeper and deeper down the road of blood magic with every turn. Something dangerous hovered right below the surface, but Fenris couldn't put his finger on it. His history with the practice was… thorough, to say the least, but this situation seemed different. As he followed Hawke, Anders and Sebastian down the steps of the docks toward their exit to the Wounded Coast, he couldn't shake a feeling of unease. This was something much bigger than it appeared.

They approached the gates that lead to the Wounded Coast, and the four gave a nod to the guardsmen on post. They passed through the gates, revealing a misty late afternoon haze settling on the rocky shores of the Waking Sea. Fenris always enjoyed this view of the coast; from this high of an angle it looked far less intimidating than the reality. A series of winding sandy paths lead through sharp rocky outcroppings, behind which bandits, maleficar, and Tal-Vashoth would be lurking. An elaborate maze of tunnels and caves underneath only added to the danger and uncertainty. However, they had braved the Wounded Coast many times over the last four years, while resolving one problem or another, and in this case familiarity bred confidence. They made their way down the steep hill, a veined combination of rocky dirt and clean white sand. Beyond earshot of the guard, Hawke stopped the group.

"So, after speaking with our contacts at the Chantry, Sebastian and I were able to gather enough information to lead us here. We don't know much, at all, but the lay-brother we spoke with insisted that all he knew was that Ansor had asked if he had heard of a place called Slaver's Reach."

"He wasn't in much of a position to lie, considering the potential trouble we could cause him if we told the Grand Cleric of his gold making ventures," Sebastian pointed out, still somewhat abashed.

"What was he paying him for?" Fenris asked.

"To inform him of his mother's comings and goings from the Chantry. I don't really understand why he wanted to know, or if it's relevant, but that's the extent of what we know. And that Ansor was speaking with a one of the sisters regarding a troublesome conflict in his life, but we don't know what," Hawke said.

"Probably the whole - I'm a mage, no a templar, no a mage - thing," Anders attempted a quip.

"This man is a mage?" Sebastian exclaimed, turning to Hawke, who guilty bit her lip.

"He's a Lord's son, I was trying to keep as quite about it as possible. I wanted to wait till we were out of the city to tell you."

"So, just to be clear, this man was a brother in the Chantry for almost ten years, then became a templar, which he has been for almost another ten years?" Sebastian posed, Hawke nodded in agreement.

"And he's a mage," Anders clarified, as if the point hadn't been made.

"Hawke, that's terrible! The Chantry is supposed to be a place of refuge for those who need it, a place to heal and grow, not to hide noble-born mages! And right within a hare's breath of the circle, it's shameful," Sebastian was getting upset.

"They're an extremely faithful family, Sebastian," Fenris attempted mediation, "They weren't trying to hide him. They believed his magic was a punishment for their sins, and if they were devout enough, that the Maker would forgive them."

"It's true, Sebastian. They had themselves convinced that it would result in the Maker terminating Ansor's powers," Hawke continued. Sebastian took a deep breath and thought about the new information for a moment.

"And after almost twenty years, they still believed that this was going to work?" he asked.

"His mother did," Hawke said, "I'm not sure what Ansor thought, but his father claims the two were very close. I'm guessing that's why he was avoiding running into her at the Chantry, he was ashamed that it wasn't working and didn't want to disappoint her."

Sebastian nodded, obviously still a bit distraught, but he looked like he was convinced for now.

"Alright, chums, to Slaver's Reach? This sounds pleasant," Anders said, turning towards the coast. Hawke, Fenris and Sebastian followed. As much as he hated the mage with the fire of a thousand burning suns, Fenris did appreciate Anders' ability to bring light to dark situations. He hated to admit it, but these days, the morale was needed.

The group made their way in the waning sunlight, winding through paths and over rocky outcroppings, farther than they'd ever gone before. Fenris found himself wondering if he should have suggested that they wait until the following day, he had little interest in fighting apostates or packs of wild mabari in the dark. Hawke seemed to sense his doubt.

"We're almost there," she announced generally, "Just beyond that outcropping, it's a cave."

They made their way a few more meters, when Fenris felt a sudden sense of unease. He stopped, and noticed Anders had done the same. They exchanged a glance, then looked forward toward Hawke, leading the pack.

"Careful, Hawke," Fenris cautioned.

"The veil is thin here," Anders clarified.

But those warnings did not begin to describe what was actually going on. Truthfully Fenris had no idea what this was, he had not felt anything like it before. In his time as a slave in the Tevinter Imperium, his master had done terrible things, both utilizing blood magic, and the regular capabilities of a sinful, immoral man. This felt like both, rolled into one horrible deed, created by many. And it stunk of the death of innocents.

A rarity, Anders knitted his brow with concern and moved forward cautiously. Fenris followed suit, trying to keep the group's proximity tight. They finally arrived at the cave's entrance, the unease only intensifying as they grew closer. The stench of it was such that Fenris was starting to think that he could actually smell it. They paused to regroup, and Fenris and Anders exchanged another glance, then looked to Hawke.

"Alright, verdict seems to be that this place makes those of us susceptible to the fade a bit uneasy," she remarked somewhat wryly. She looked questioningly towards the men.

"That's an understatement," Fenris said, right as Anders spouted, "That doesn't even begin to cover it."

"Noted…" Hawke said, starting to appear uneasy herself, "Happen to know what we're going up against in there?"

The men stood in silence for a few long moments. Anders lightly kicked at some rocks in the sand.

"No idea, honestly. It just doesn't feel quite… right," Fenris said. It was all he could manage; there weren't words for what he felt. Hawke nodded slowly. She knew them both well enough by now that if Fenris was anything but brooding or perilously bold and Anders wasn't making a joke, that something very serious was happening.

"Ok, let's be careful in there then. Fenris and Anders watch our backs, Sebastian take point with me. Everyone move careful, stay quiet. Let's see if we can surprise them," Hawke instructed. It was in these moments that Fenris found himself appreciating Hawke the most. She was decisive and practical. She was going to get the job done, but would reduce risk as much as possible. She thought things through, and rarely if ever acted brashly. Not like Fenris, who could think of no better single word to describe himself than 'brash'.

Hawke turned to assist Sebastian in tightening his breastplate, and Fenris found himself watching the warm sea breeze blow pieces of Hawke's long hair that had fallen from her braid. They danced around her face, drawing attention to her jawline and the pinkness in her cheeks, likely caused by the exertion of climbing over so many rocks in her heavy armor. She was an average size for a human female, but she must be very strong to be such an effective warrior. Fenris quickly retracted from his thoughts, he wasn't sure where they were leading anyway.

Hawke finished strapping the buckle down, then lifted her greatsword off her back, prompting the other three to draw their weapons as well. Anders spun his staff in his hands nervously, and Sebastian readied an arrow. Fenris released his own greatsword from its sheath and slid it off his back. He was not looking forward to this.


	4. Slaver's Reach

Hawke was not prepared for what she found inside that cave. None of them were. After nervously winding their way through narrow passageways, having to backtrack after finding dead ends multiple times, they finally found themselves face to face with a rather large wooden doorway. On the doorway a symbol was painted, with paint, Hawke begged the Maker that it be paint, made of simple lines, not unlike Kirkwall’s ancient Tevinter heraldry. This symbol however appeared to be a depiction of a person, a mage's staff gripped in one hand, her feet raised off the ground, arms stretched out, bleeding from both wrists.

Hawke looked to Fenris, whose look of caution had reset to one of brooding anger. Somehow this reassured her. She pushed the door open slowly, a surprisingly quiet action considering how aged the wood and hinges appeared. It was nothing, however, compared to the silence that befell the group upon seeing what lay beyond the doorway.

Hawke didn't want to continue looking. If her eyes described the scene to her brain, and her mind processed it, certainly it would poison her soul. But it was too late, the process happened in an instant, her gut reaction not fast enough to save face. She heard Sebastian make some kind of noise, maybe a gasp or a whimper. She wanted to turn and show concern for her friends, but she couldn't. Facing them, having memories of them associated with memories of this place, would make it real, not a horrible nightmare she would certainly wake up from any moment.

Hawke steeled her resolve, and gave herself a brief moment of objectivity. She needed the facts of the place, to ignore what she could, but gain any information possible about the people behind this. Because however this started, regardless of Ansor Restin, this just became about hunting maleficarum.

Bunks, rows and rows of them. Two, sometimes three high each. Enough to sleep thirty or forty. Could there be that many? And the blood. Barrels of it, buckets of it, any type of container that could hold a liquid held it, stacked and placed on almost every surface of the place. Except, it seemed, for the surface reserved for the stacking of corpses. Bled dry, apparently, neatly stacked along the back wall. From the look of it, mostly elves. She did not allow herself to count them. It was also in this moment she saw him, crouched in a fetal position, hugging his own legs, not three meters from them by the nearest set of bunks.

"Ansor?" Hawke managed, though the word came out cracked and breathy. The templar convulsed slightly, apparently not having heard the group enter. The spitting image of a young Lord Restin looked up at her, eyes weary. He looked defeated, harmless, so she went to him, offering a hand to help him stand, which he accepted.

"You're Lady Hawke, aren't you? The Champion?" he asked, wiping an errant tear as it ran down his cheek.

"Yes, Ansor. Your father sent me to find you, he's very worried," Hawke said.

"Rightfully so," Ansor mentioned, staring off into the distance.

"Do you know what happened here?" Hawke asked. Ansor didn't make any kind of motion to reply, he seemed lost in thought.

"Maybe we should speak with him outside," Fenris suggested. His warm, deep voice almost startled Hawke, she had half forgotten about her friends. She turned to agree, but only saw Fenris standing there, his sword sheathed.

"Sebastian and Anders… will meet us outside," Fenris said. Hawke nodded, sheathed her sword and gestured to Ansor to follow Fenris out.

Hawke felt that such a short time period had never felt so long in her life as they wound their way through the narrow chasms back to the mouth of the cave. She tried to find things to focus on: Fenris's swinging white hair, the templar crest emblazoned on the shield strapped to Ansor's back, but when the latter two proved dangerous she decided it best to try and focus on the uneven, rocky soil beneath her feet. It was night by the time they reached the salty air outside the cave, the glow of the sun still barely visible on the horizon. Hawke took a moment to notice the stars through the haze. What were they? Had the Maker created them? Were they very small and close, or very large and far away? She thought they would have to be impossibly bright if they were so far away. This made her feel very small, which at this moment also made her feel very safe.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," Sebastian broke her thoughts, and she looked to him, "The Maker had abandoned that place, I could not remain."

"I understand, Sebastian, it's no trouble."

"I'm sorry too, Hawke," Anders appeared behind her, putting an a hand on her pauldron, "Justice felt… very uncomfortable."

"Understandable, nothing about what happened in there could be considered justice," she turned to Ansor, "If there is anything you can tell us about these people…"

He nodded, seeming to regain some of his composure, "Of course Messere, I'm sorry, I'm still somewhat in shock." Ansor took a moment to collect his thoughts, then started his story, "A few weeks ago I caught wind that a few known apostates were forming a group of some kind, and attempting to recruit from within the circle mages."

"What was the purpose of this group?" Hawke asked.

"I wasn't sure at first, I thought maybe to help each other escape. I am… friends… with a circle mage named Irinna, and one night they approached her. She told me about it right away, she knew some of them were blood mages. She was afraid not to go, that they would think she was going to turn them in. But she was also afraid to go alone, so I accompanied her, every other night for almost a week. At first their meetings were about gaining the strength and resources enough to live on their own, so they could travel and live their lives, similar to the Dalish, I think. But as they starting formulating plans, things went down a path Irinna wasn't comfortable with. She was afraid of being caught; she didn't want to be made tranquil. I told her if I could gather enough information on the apostates to help the templars find and stop them, that I could vow for her, keep her safe."

"Didn't it seem dangerous to come alone?"

"I knew that if I told the Knight-Captain or any one else, that Irinna would not be safe. I had to find proof, so they would be certain she was spying for me."

Hawke raised an eyebrow at this, clearly the boy had feelings for her.

"I did find this," Ansor reached into his pouch and withdrew a piece of paper, handing it to Hawke, "It's crudely drawn, but looks like Darktown to me. Either their new meeting place, or a secondary location."

"So the other meetings Irinna attended, they were here as well?"

"Yes, this… occurrence… must have only happened recently. We were here two nights ago and… none of that… was there."

"Thank you Ansor, this is helpful. Rest assured we  _will_  find these people."

Ansor sighed with relief, "That's a relief to hear, Champion. I know I should have told the templars, but I know that you'll take care of it." Hawke nodded, hoping her discomfort at being called Champion didn't show.

"Where's Irinna now?"

"She left as soon as we arrived late this afternoon… she had much the same reaction as your friends here. I thought she'd be waiting, but the discomfort must have been too much. Knowing Irinna, I'm sure she returned to the circle," Ansor said, sounding mostly like he was trying to convince himself. Hawke nodded, but was confounded. She looked to Anders and Fenris, still obviously affected by the air of instability these tragedies had created.

"Ansor, were you not…  _also_  effected by the thinness of the veil here?" Hawke probed.

Ansor rubbed his temples with his fingers, "Right, you said my father sent you?"

"Yes, he hired me to find you. He got your letter and was worried when you hadn't returned... he thought maybe Irina had turned you to blood magic."

"I'm not a mage, Messere Hawke," Ansor said carefully.

Hawke raised an eyebrow, "Your father seemed quite convinced."

Ansor nodded and took a breath, as if to prepare for confession, "Maker save me, I lied to them."

"How? Did they really never see you do any magic?" Hawke asked, stunned.

"A mixture of a few choice ingredients and well-timed 'incidents', praying on their worst fears… it wasn't hard to put on enough of a show to have them convinced."

The four just stood, staring at Ansor blankly.

After a moment, Anders broke the silence, "I didn't think the mage pretending to be a templar story could get stranger, until it turned into the regular boy pretending to be a mage so he can actually be a templar… story."

Hawke felt some normalcy return along with Anders' quip, only to have it dashed moments later.

"Why? Seems a strange route just to escape… nobility…" Sebastian seemed confused by the end of his own sentence.

"It wasn't to escape nobility… it's my mother. She was not… nice… to me as a child. At the time my father traveled a lot, making business deals in Antiva and the like, and we were often alone," Ansor looked very uncomfortable, but came up with the resolve to continue, "She abused me, mentally and physically. I needed a way out, but I was their only child, I knew they would never allow me to go elsewhere or join the Chantry, or do anything that would allow me to get away from her. I had heard them both speak in fear of mages before. I thought… at best she'd send me off to live with some foreign relatives, at worst she'd kill me." Ansor shrugged, "Landed somewhere in between, I guess."

Hawke suddenly felt very tired.

"I'm so sorry Ansor, I had no idea. I don't think your father does either."

Ansor shook his head, "No, he doesn't. Please don't mention it to him, I'm afraid of what he'll do to her." Fenris gave a look of shock, and Ansor clarified, "Not for her sake, for his. He's a good man, he doesn't deserve a life in prison for killing someone like my mother, just because she's a Lady of Kirkwall."

Hawke took a breath, "Your father didn't want me to tell you this, but it seems it might bring you some relief. Your mother is dead, Ansor."

A palpable energy spread over the air. "Truly?" he asked.

"That's what he told me, I'm sure it was the truth. He was worried you'd lose control over your powers if you heard, that's why he hasn't told you."

The briefest glimmer of a smile washed over Ansor's face, "Thank you, Hawke. I'll touch base with my father as soon as we're back to Kirkwall so he knows I'm alright."

"Consider not coming clean with your father. He would truly be heartbroken if he learned about your mother," it was a suggestion, but Hawke had a way of making things sound like they were the right thing to do.

Ansor nodded, "I won't, he's old, frail. That's best left with the dead, I think."

"Let's head back to Kirkwall together, eh?" Anders suggested, "Safety in numbers."

Hawke nodded in agreement and the five started making their way back through the rocky outcroppings, a task far more treacherous in the dark. As urgent as the matter seemed, Hawke knew they could not pursue the maleficarum until tomorrow. After all the injustices they'd experienced over the last few hours, the group would want to get some much-needed sleep.


	5. Informing the Crew

Unfortunately, rest had not found any of them, as Sebastian was the last to rap on Hawke's Hightown estate door late that night. Fenris let him in, Bodahn having gone to bed hours before. Varric had found a comfortable spot half-snoozing on the lounge, having arrived with a head start on the others in regards to ale consumption. Aveline paced near the stairs, her mood hovering just below the level of frantic. Anders lounged by the fire, staring longingly at the Mabari hound, Legion. Fenris knew him well enough to know he was far more likely to be daydreaming about kittens than dogs. Aveline almost plowed straight into Hawke as the latter emerged from the cellar with a bottle of wine. Hawke immediately poured Aveline a glass and passed it to her in a way that did not  _suggest_  consumption. Fenris took the bottle from Hawke as Aveline downed her glass, and made the rounds to offer refills. Sebastian leaned against the wall near the fire, lost in thought. It was likely he had been at the Chantry praying since their return.

"Merrill's not coming, I'm guessing?" Varric asked as Hawke joined him on the lounge. Hawke shook her head, gratefully accepting the refill as Fenris passed with the wine bottle. He thought he'd never seen Hawke look so tired, except maybe the night her mother died. As completely awful as that situation had been, Hawke had handled it with a surprising amount of resilience. He recalled wondering at the time if it seemed like old hat to her by then. He knew it was an awful thing to think, but truly Fenris could not put himself in her shoes. He often thought of going to her in the days following the incident, but when he imagined what he would say, nothing came to him. He could not imagine having a mother to start with, nevertheless what it would be like to lose one in such a traumatic way. Did it benefit Hawke to hear condolences from someone who could not even begin to empathize with her situation? Sure, Fenris had lost everything, memories of an entire lifetime before he was branded with these markings. But if he had no recollection of what he'd lost, was it really the same? By the time he had himself convinced that Hawke would like to know he was thinking of her, whether or not he could understand her plight, she seemed to have bounced back.

"Can blood that isn't… fresh… even be used in blood magic?" Hawke interrupted his thoughts, offended by her own question.

"Not that I've ever heard of," Anders responded.

Fenris agreed, shaking his head. Something wasn't right about all this, he knew. The apostates must have known that gathering blood in such a way would be useless to them, so why do it?

Aveline somehow made the act of sitting down look restless and said, "This is a terrible injustice. I am ashamed that something like this could happen so close to Kirkwall. I will triple patrols along the Wounded Coast."

"That's not necessary Aveline. You can't possibly think this was the fault of the guard?" Hawke asked.

"The Wounded Coast is our responsibility."

"This cave was a great distance off the paths, most of the people we spoke with had never even heard of it. We were lucky that Varric knows some pretty shady, and quite old, people," Anders said.

"Yeah," Fenris scoffed, "Lucky." Anders gave him a look.

"I understand. I still intend to do everything in my power to help work towards righting this wrong," Aveline was staunch.

"Thank you, Aveline," Hawke said sincerely.

"Do we know where they…" Varric seemed like he was being careful, "…got them?"

Hawke shook her head, "No, they were mostly elves. I didn't… attempt a better look."

"Patrols near the alienage have been busy over the last year, maybe they've been accumulating them slowly over time, as not to draw attention?" Aveline suggested.

Hawke shook her head, "Maybe, but Ansor said he was at the cave two days prior and there was no sign of them."

Fenris nodded, "Maybe they intercepted a shipment of slaves headed for Tevinter?"

"That would make sense," Hawke said, "I don't know how we'd find someone with a line on slaver shipments though."

The other four turned to look at Varric. He scowled, "Come on, guys, you think I'd associate with people who deal in slavery?"

"Maybe an acquaintance, or a friend of a friend of an acquaintance?" Anders suggested.

"Not that I know about, and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you," Varric said, still a bit annoyed by the assumption.

"Maybe it isn't essential that we find out more about the situation," Sebastian suggested, "After all, if we wait too long they could move again and the trail could go cold." He spoke with the same absolute resolve he did when he was bent on avenging his family a few years ago.

They all hated to admit it, but he was right. It was too risky to let this opportunity pass, despite how enormously dangerous it would be. They had to raid the undercity retreat. The group sat in silence for a few moments, some staring into the fire, some off into nothing. Fenris threw back the last of the wine, straight from the bottle. This was one of the Antivan wines he'd found in his cellar. He'd have to bring another over to replace it. Fenris found himself keeping Hawke stocked with wine and ale often lately. He knew it was just an excuse to leave his mansion. Even if Hawke was out, there was always something going on at the former Amell Estate. The dwarves, the dog, that meek blonde elf that Hawke saved from Hadriana's evil grasp. And until a few months ago, Leandra. She always had something pleasant to say to him, even if it was just small talk. He mostly enjoyed his solitude, but wasn't actually used to spending a great deal of time alone.

"We should all get some rest," Sebastian voiced with an air of certainty that spurred the others out of their trance. Fenris knew it was his princely upbringing that allowed Sebastian this command over a room, but he also wondered if his time spent in prayer didn't help him recharge. It was starting to sound like not such a bad idea.

"We go tomorrow night. Let's meet at Anders' clinic at dusk," Hawke instructed as the others made their way toward the door.

"Want me to tell Daisy?" Varric asked.

Hawke shook her head, "No, Varric. We had another disagreement. I don't think she'd want to hear from me right now."

Varric nodded his drunken understanding and headed toward the door. The poor dwarf had been attempting to facilitate reconciliation between the Hawke and Merrill for weeks, but neither party was having it.

"You'll make it back to the Hanged Man alright?" she called after him.

"I'll go with him, Hawke," Anders said, following the dwarf out. He called back, "Good night."

"See you tomorrow Hawke, again, I'm sorry," Aveline said, nodding her goodbye to Fenris and leaving. He began to collect the wine glasses to return to the kitchen.

"Hawke, I have to apologize," Fenris overheard Sebastian saying as Hawke followed him through the front hall. He watched the archer stop and turn in the doorway, "I'm sorry, about what I said about Ansor. The Chantry is a refuge for those in need, which he very much was. I should not have judged him so harshly."

"It's all right, Sebastian, you hardly had all the facts," Hawke assured, patting his arm in a comforting gesture. Sebastian smiled, returning the gesture, which, Fenris thought, lingered a bit too long. He found himself questioning Sebastian's motives, and felt a kind of ire within him he did not remember existing.

Before he knew it, Sebastian was gone and Hawke was standing at the foot of the steps, giving Fenris a questioning look.

"Orana will get that, Fenris, you can leave it," Hawke smirked. Fenris nodded, setting the glasses down on the table.

"Of course, sorry. My mansion didn't come stocked with servants, so I'm just used to cleaning up," he said. Hawke looked a little abashed, and he realized his mistake.

"Sorry, Hawke, I didn't mean that to come off so… brash." There was that word again. She looked down. She didn't seem angry or even hurt. It was her lonely look, the one she got more and more often since her mother died, and certainly more often when she was reminded of what she'd lost.

"I know you've earned all this, Hawke. More than earned it. I don't know anyone more deserving-" the word caught in his throat, and he suddenly felt he had too much wine.

"I'll let myself out," he said, and headed straight for the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, Fenris?" she called to him, and he turned.

"Of course, Hawke," he inclined his head and left.


	6. Follow the Lead

After lying awake long enough to watch the first slivers of sun streak through the wooden slats of her window pains, sleep finally found Hawke. When she woke, it seemed only due to vehement hunger. She made her way downstairs to find that Bodahn and Sandal had stepped out, their weekly supply run most likely. Legion was missing; Aveline must have taken him for a run with the guards. She entered the dining room to find a mostly warm meal prepared at the table for her, Orana's doing. She was certain the elf was off scrubbing her knuckles raw cleaning the floors, or dusting in places even the Maker couldn't see. She was appreciative of her hard work, but often wished the former slave would take a break, just sit and enjoy freedom.

This thought sunk in, and she realized the irony of her wishes for Orana. Hawke didn't feel like she'd had a break since she stepped foot off that miserable boat from Ferelden. However, as she sat alone in a single chair, at the end of a long, empty table, she felt like she wanted anything but a break. Was this it? She found great solace in assisting others with their grievances, but at the end of the day, when evil was vanquished and the innocents saved, she was still alone in a single chair, at the end of a long, empty table.

She ate her meal and then went upstairs to draw herself a bath. She wasn't sure how long she'd slept, but she knew it would soon be time to meet the others in Darktown. She dressed to the degree she could without assistance and collected the rest of her armor, deciding she would stop by Fenris's on the way to walk down together. He was always the most capable of getting her armor on properly. Anders always left it too loose, and Aveline acted like it was a corset. After no answer, she waited a while by his door, watching the errant noble or messenger stroll by. Once the sun had sunk below the mansion across the way, she decided to make her way to Darktown alone.

A few minutes later she entered Darktown, cursing herself now for having the exit in her cellar sealed off. It seemed safest for mother, at the time, but now it would have made for a very convenient passage to Anders' clinic. She made her way past a hovel that always had two children begging for coin out front. She tossed them a few coppers as she went by. As strange as it seemed, she had always regarded Darktown as the most honest of the locales in Kirkwall. There were no scheming dockmasters, dirty politicians or self-seeking nobles. Everyone here was just desolate. The Coterie was here, but everyone knew it. There weren't any surprises. Except, she thought as she rounded the corner to Anders' clinic, for the Grey Warden apostate that healed the sick and dying, with no thought of coin for himself. As radical as Anders' ideas could seem, there was no denying he was a good man.

She pushed the door open to the clinic. Anders was playing cards with a group of Darktowners near the fire, but otherwise the others had not yet arrived. She nodded to Anders in recognition and found herself a seat atop one of the clinic's tables. She watched Anders as he joked with the other men, likely the first time the poor souls had laughed in weeks. She knew from experience that Anders' humor was excellent medicine. He was always working. She knew that Justice played a roll in Anders' vehemence against the discrimination done to mages, and he wasn't wrong. They had talked it through, long and hard, over the years, waiting for a peaceful, amenable solution to present itself, but it never did. Lately Anders', or Justice's, frustration usually ended the discussions early, and on a sour note. They were all but futile anyway. The kind of solution they were looking for just didn't seem to exist.

Hawke was pulled from her thoughts as the clinic's door opened, revealing Fenris, trailed by Sebastian. The prince was immediately approached by a young Darktowner couple, likely asking for guidance or blessings. Hawke was able to catch Fenris's eye, and he walked over to her.

"I waited for you this afternoon," Hawke said with a smile, offering her pauldrons to the elf. He smiled in a reserved way and took the armor from her.

"Sorry, I had an errand to run," he said, not meeting her eye. Hawke eyed Sebastian as he spoke quietly with the young man and woman.

"You and Sebastian friends now?" she jibed as she raised her arms and turned. Fenris tightened the buckle and gave her a look.

"Just arrived at the same time, Hawke. No conspiracies, I assure you," he gave a genuine smile this time, which Hawke returned. This gave her some relief, Fenris had acted strangely before he left the night prior, and she didn't want any insecurities with the upcoming fight. It also just didn't feel right to have things go unsaid with Fenris, she realized. They had been through enough together at this point that complete trust wasn't just an assumption, but a certainty.

Fenris gave her a quick pat on the back to signal his having finished, and Hawke thanked him. She nodded to Varric as he entered and sat in his usual spot to buff Bianca. Just waiting on Aveline, then. She watched as Fenris began to strap on his own gauntlets, and she did the same. She noticed the ease with which he was able to put on his armor. It was second nature to him, a confidence she had never felt with her own. She smiled to herself, imagining him fighting off fiends as he suited up. The impressive thing was that it wasn't really a fiction. In the Deep Roads, after a couple darkspawn scouts had slipped past the guards, she had actually seen the man scoop up his breastplate with the tip of his greatsword, slide it on, clasp the buckles with two fingers, spin, and slice a scout in half in less time than it had taken her to realize the ambush was happening.

Aveline entered, spurring Anders to end his card game and walk over towards where they were rallying.

"Everyone ready?" Aveline asked. She got a series of somber nods and grumbles in approval. Morale was low, it seemed.

"Alright, let's review the facts," Hawke announced, in her best commanding tone. Sebastian would be better at this, she thought.

"A group of apostates, who have been actively recruiting from the circle, have taken refuge in the undercity. Their… previous residence… leads us to believe they are practicing blood magic, and they've murdered over thirty souls. There could be as many as forty apostates, but it's more likely they number in the teens or twenties, it'd be difficult to move a group of more than that into the city without being noticed. Aveline, were you able to get the maps?" Hawke asked. Aveline nodded and pulled a roll of paper out of her belt and spread it across the table in front of her. Hawke moved over to it and examined it for a moment.

"Looks right to me. If this is in fact a match for the map we found, this is where they'll be," Hawke said, gesturing to a large section in the middle, almost as far from an entrance as possible, "I'll need a volunteer to lead the flanking team."

"I will," Fenris immediately offered. Hawke nodded in appreciation. Fenris never ignored an opportunity to assist tactically. He was a very good leader, as much as he preferred to let Hawke take the reigns.

"Great, take Varric and Anders. We'll enter here, likely the front; Fenris's team here, I'll give you the signal. Once we're both inside, Anders, try to cover both groups if you're able. Let's route them to this middle alcove," she said, pointing to a recess in the rocks that would allow them to corner the apostates, "But make sure the exits are covered, they may be more spread out through the tunnels than we realize."

"What if they don't want a fight?" Sebastian proposed. Hawke raised an eyebrow.

"It's possible I guess. If they don't draw their weapons, we stay on guard. I'll speak to them," she said.

"Everyone ready?" Aveline attempted again. The others nodded and asserted approval, seeming a little more cohesive this time. Hawke patted Aveline on the back, and the six filed out of the clinic and headed toward the undercity entrance.

After only getting turned around once, which was actually quite good for the undercity, they found the entrance to the warren. On the shabby wooden door, the same red symbol was painted.

"It's a little obvious, isn't it?" Anders whispered, "It basically says, hey, we're blood-mages, come kill us, please."

Hawke nodded in agreement, as Aveline added in a hushed voice, "It's not as if the guard patrols down here." Anders nodded in assent as Hawke signaled to Fenris to move to the next entrance. Fenris, Anders and Varric made their way down the narrow corridor to their flanking position. Hawke waited a few moments, enough time for Fenris to get in position, though he'd been instructed to hold, in case they were peaceful. She took a breath, steeled her resolve, and opened the door.

Inside, more than twenty red-cloaked apostates kneeled in rows. In front of them stood a tall, thin man who wore the same garb. The man looked up expectantly, as if in anticipation of someone. It had only been a half second, and Hawke waited. After all, Sebastian could be right. But before she knew it, red cloaks were billowing and twenty-five staves appeared.

"To arms!" she yelled, signaling Fenris' team to move. Fireballs, lightning and whiffs of cold exploded across the room. Hawke ducked an arcane bolt and rolled, sweeping her weapon into a wide arc in front of her, felling two of the mages. She watched as an arrow whipped by her face and found it's deadly mark in the chest of another red-cloaked apostate. Aveline rammed her shield into the shoulder of a mage as he raised his staff above his head, causing him to sprawl at Hawke's feet. Hawke swept her sword down upon the prone man, killing him instantly. One of the apostates swung his staff wildly, catching Hawke hard in the temple. She felt blood run into her eye as she felled the man. Then she felt a rumbling in the earth at her feet.

"Demons!" she warned the group as she swung her heavy sword into the flank of the mage who had just summoned them. She watched as three rage demons twisted up from the earth and into existence, one dangerously close to Anders.

"Anders, behind you!" Varric warned. Anders swung his staff out in a wide arc, then brought his hands together above himself, casting a spell that immobilized the creature for a short time. Fenris and Varric took the opportunity to focus it down as Anders sent out a wave of magic that gave the whole group a bout of vigor.

Hawke put the unexpected energy to good use, unleashing another whirlwind attack that slashed through the middle of three more apostates. Aveline had pummeled another with her shield, then turned to cut him down with her blade. Keeping an eye on the doorway, Sebastian stood back and chose his shots, each one deadly. Hawke focused her ire on the rage demon closest to her, as Aveline seemed to be handling the apostates with no trouble. The creature swiped out in anger, and she weaved between its fiery attacks. With a distracting assist from Sebastian, Hawke was able to land a debilitating blow to the creature, who roared in agony and angrily struck back, catching Hawke on the shoulder as she righted her sword from the swing. The wound burned agonizingly for a moment, then she could feel Anders' send out a wave of restoration, numbing the pain momentarily. She finished the demon off in one more swing, and turned to see Fenris and Varric finishing off the third and last demon.

Over half the apostates were down, and there were no more signs of demons, so Hawke squared up with Aveline and the two forced the line toward the alcove where the man had been standing. She saw Fenris across the room, shoring up to do the same. Mere moments later they had the remaining mages trapped against the alcove, and they were easily slain.

Hawke turned to find the last one, the tall thin man who had stood at the front. Hawke stalked toward him, but realized he had no staff, no weapon at all that she could see. She stopped short, raising the tip of her greatsword to his chin, forcing him to look up at her. The intensity of his look was palpable, and a chill ran through Hawke.

"Who are you? What is this place?" she demanded.

"The Mighty shall reign down her vengeance upon those who have wronged us!" the man spat, as if reciting a passage from an angry version of the Chant of Light.

"That doesn't answer my question," Hawke threatened, raising her sword tip slightly higher so it pinched the skin under his chin.

The man simply glared on, rancorous piety in his voice, "The Prophet Malefica will avenge us!"

Suddenly the man thrust a dagger from inside his cloak, directed at the space in Hawke's armor above her left greave. But it was too late for the man. Hawke withdrew her sword from him and strapped it into the sheath on her back. She wiped at the stream of blood that ran down her temple and turned to face the others.

"The Prophet Malefica?" Anders said in shock, "This was a church?" They let the idea sink in for a few moments when Sebastian broke the silence.

"It explains the… sacrifices," he said, revulsion in his voice.

"But not the… blood collecting," Fenris pointed out.

"What do you think the chances are it's a real person?" Varric asked.

"I've seen this kind of thing before, but usually the false prophets are devotees of the Maker, or the Creators, or even the Old Gods. These people seemed to be worshipping this 'Malefica' directly," Anders said, worried.

Hawke nodded, "Alright, let's do a thorough search, everyone's pockets, every crevice in this room. Let's figure out who this Malefica is," Hawke directed.


	7. Recovering

"Careful, mage," Fenris grumbled as Anders not so gently closed the wound on his arm.

"Awfully sensitive for someone who has the emotional capacity of a stone wall. Why didn't you just  _phase_  out of the spell's way?" Anders jeered as he finished up. Fenris set his jaw at him, accompanying it with one of his finest glares, that he reserved exclusively for the mage, and hopped off the table. Hawke took his place; she always insisted on having her injuries seen to last. He supposed that was part of what made her a good leader, someone worth following. Fenris rubbed his sore arm and walked over to Varric and Aveline, deep in conversation by the door.

"All I'm saying is, what if that was just one place of worship?" Aveline proposed, "That could have been one of multiple flocks."

"Well if that's true, there was no evidence of it. They kept a tight ship," Fenris remarked.

"Angsty here is right," Varric said, and Fenris glowered at him.

"Keep your ear to the ground, if they're in the city, your guards may catch wind of it," Varric advised.

Aveline nodded and suggested Varric do the same. They continued to discuss the possible outcomes as Fenris's attentions were drawn back to Hawke and Anders. She was laughing at something he said, likely to distract her as he peeled her pauldron off the burn she had received. Hawke didn't flinch, just watched as Anders cut her gambeson to make space around the wound. Hawke said something, looking to Anders expectantly. His retort made her laugh again, and Fenris felt the same ire from the night before bubbling to the surface. He turned as Sebastian tapped him on the shoulder.

"Can we speak privately, Fenris?" he asked politely. Fenris tried to release the scowl from his face before nodding and following the prince out the door and into Darktown. He turned to face Sebastian as he shut the door behind them, but at first the prince said nothing. He just stood with his arms crossed and stared at Fenris.

"Yes?" the elf said after a few very uncomfortable moments.

"Just wondering if there was anything you would like to discuss?" Sebastian sounded a bit accusatory, but Fenris gave him an honest shrug.

"When you came to me this afternoon with so many questions about the Maker? About faith, how to pray? Did that have something to do with Hawke?" Sebastian asked.

Fenris was truly confused, "No, Sebastian, they were honest questions." He changed tones, going on the defensive, "What do you mean 'about Hawke'?"

"We aren't all blind, Fenris. I saw you looking at her in there. We all see you looking at her like that almost every day. Do you think we're stupid?"

Fenris found himself shaking his head. "I don't…" he trailed off, questioning himself. So that's what it was then? He supposed he knew, deep down, but it wasn't like he had previous experiences with which to compare it. He'd never felt anything near to the feelings he had for Hawke, for all he knew they were completely normal friend feelings. Apparently not.

Sebastian must have seen Fenris working through the scenario. His accusatory look changed to one of pity, and he patted the elf on the shoulder, "Sorry I had to be the one to tell you, friend."

He gave him a charming smile and went back into the clinic. Fenris suddenly felt very tired. He followed Sebastian back inside. Anders had finished healing Hawke's wounds, and was using a wet rag to clean the blood off her temple, holding her chin delicately. And she was laughing again. His stomach cringed. The others began to approach Hawke and Anders, and Fenris followed suit.

"What's the plan, boss?" Varric asked, giving Hawke a harsh rasp on her newly healed shoulder. She cringed, and gave Varric a playful punch in return.

"Well, since we weren't very successful at gathering intel, we'll have to start asking around," Hawke said with some trepidation.

"I'll inform the guards, you'll know the moment they hear anything," Aveline announced.

"I'll put out some feelers as well, keep an ear out at the Hanged Man," Varric said.

"Perfect, you needed another excuse to hang around the bar all day," Anders jested.

"Careful, Blondie, I have templar friends, you know," Varric goaded.

"As always, I'll be your eyes and ears at the Chantry, Hawke," Sebastian offered.

"I'll inform my contacts with the mage underground, but they already know to be on the lookout for maleficar," Anders said. Fenris felt slightly awkward, having nothing really to offer to this list of potential leads.

"Great, let's be careful though, we don't want to stir up too much trouble. Maleficarum in these numbers could be very dangerous. We caught them off guard tonight, but we've tipped our hat. If there are more groups, they'll be warned, and they'll be ready," Hawke said as she slid down off the table. The group started going their separate ways as Hawke began to slide some of her armor back on. Anders made another joke, to which she and Aveline laughed heartily. He saw Sebastian watching him from the doorway and looked over. The prince smiled, gave him a favoring nod, and then left with Varric, who gave him a disturbingly coy smile. What was this? Fenris asked himself. He felt like a schoolboy being prodded by his classmates.

"Did you ever encounter anything like this," Hawke asked suddenly, apparently having made her way over to Fenris, "In Tevinter, I mean?"

Fenris shook his head, "Not really, no. It's very strange, indeed."

"Walk up together?" she asked. He gave an agreeing smile and they moved forward, walking in silence for a few moments.

"Hawke," Fenris started, "I'm sorry I can't contribute to the information gathering. I know everyone has their specialties, and I'm not really the… social type."

"I can't contribute either, Fenris. I just sit at home and wait till one of the others brings me information. We're the muscle," she made a flexing pose with her arms, scowling. Fenris smiled, even let out a stray chuckle, but his smile faded when he said, "Just know you can come to me with anything and I'll do what I can to help."

Hawke nodded, looking slightly concerned, and they walked a few more paces in silence.

"Are you alright, Fenris? You seem a little off lately."

"I'm great, Hawke. Good, I mean. Fine," he all but stammered, "I mean, things are fine. I've had a little bit of a… crisis of faith, lately, that's all," he admitted.

"Oh," Hawke feigned solemnity, "That certainly does sound serious."

Fenris gave her a level look, "I don't need brooding jokes from you too."

Hawke laughed, "Hey, I didn't say anything. You know what I've heard is great for a crisis of faith?" Fenris looked at her expectantly.

"That dry Antivan wine," she licked her lips and nodded as if it was a great wisdom passed down through the generations.

Fenris laughed, "Ah, well I'll have to check the cellar for more, but I'm relatively certain there's at least another crate of it."

"Oh, good," Hawke said, "It'll last us the week at least."


	8. A Message for the Champion

Hightown at night, Hawke thought listlessly as she walked down the moonlit stone street, was much like the waters of the Amaranthine Ocean. On the surface it was calm and beautiful, but lurking in the darkness was any number of dangerous foe. So, as she walked to Fenris's, unarmored, with only a pair of daggers sheathed in her belt, she felt much happier to be escorted by the fully clad Captain of the Guard. Aveline had been there from the beginning of Hawke's new life, and she felt more like a sister she'd always had than someone she met less than five years ago. So much had happened in those five years, so much more than altogether in the more than twenty years prior that they seemed like two different lives entirely. Or even not her own, at times, like that life was something Hawke had read about in a book and remembered fondly.

They arrived at Fenris's doorstep and Hawke rapped quickly on the door.

"You know," Aveline said, "I do quite a lot to keep things quiet in regards to Fenris's squatting situation, Hawke."

"I know, Aveline," Hawke smiled, "It is appreciated."

"By you, maybe," she replied, "Not by Fenris."

"He does appreciate it, believe it or not. I think he just finds it hard to accept help from others."

Aveline pursed her lips, "Men."

Hawke laughed as the door opened, revealing Fenris. He almost looked surprised to see them.

"Ladies," he said, and stepped aside to let them pass. They made their way up to the study. Hawke took her usual spot on the lounge by the fire; Aveline sat in a chair nearby. Hawke often wondered why Fenris chose to stay in this mansion, it had to have some bad memories associated with it. Better than the alternative, she supposed, the Alienage. She scoffed at the thought, as if Hawke would let Fenris move to the Alienage. She had extra rooms, many extra rooms, too many extra rooms. She often wondered why she didn't just invite everyone to move in, it'd save them all a great deal of time running around to find one another. Fenris returned from the cellar and grabbed a few glasses off the table on his way across the room.

"Anyone else coming by, Fenris?" Aveline asked.

"Ah, no, Aveline, afraid it's just the three of us this evening," Fenris said, pouring them each a glass. Aveline took a careful swig from hers.

"You're right, Hawke, it's really good," she said.

"I wasn't sure the taste even hit your tongue the last time you gulped a glass down," Hawke joked. Aveline gave her a level look and continued drinking. Fenris finished pouring himself a glass and sat down across from Aveline, who raised her glass in a toast towards the other two.

"I'm proud of what we've accomplished in the last two weeks," she announced, "Three flocks down, more than fifty blood mages off the streets of Kirkwall."

"But no false prophet," Fenris pointed out.

"No false prophet – yet," Aveline corrected.

Hawke smiled, "To finding, and promptly killing, the Prophet Malefica." The three clinked their glasses and took a drink of the dry, dark wine.

"I call dibs," Hawke said.

"Oh no, Hawke, you can't call dibs without the target in sight, those are the rules," Aveline insisted. Hawke laughed and looked to Fenris, who smiled pleasantly. True, this in itself was a rarity, but Hawke wished she could see him laugh more. Isabela had seemed to be able to make Fenris laugh occasionally, mostly just from how ridiculous he found her, but it was something at least.

"I can't help but be curious about this 'religion' though – what exactly are they worshipping?" Aveline questioned.

Hawke shook her head, "A specific demon, maybe? Perhaps whoever this prophet is was possessed by a…  _pride_  demon… like a tactful, organized pride demon who is excellent at long-term planning?" The suggestion fell apart as it came out of her mouth, and Hawke took a swig as the others looked on.

She shook her head, "I don't know, I thought it'd become more clear as we found more flocks, but we really haven't found any information."

"The way they named their prophet- " Fenris started.

"-or how she named herself," Hawke interjected. Fenris nodded.

"Indeed, or how she named herself, indicates to me that they're just worshipping blood magic. As if practically every mage doesn't already," he said grumpily and took a drink.

"Blood magic as a higher power? Or as a being?" Hawke questioned.

"Are the mutually exclusive?" he said.

"I suppose not," Hawke thought on this for a moment, "But how do you form a religion around something like that, that would be like worshipping helms, or… daggers."

"Varric worships Bianca," Fenris pointed out.

"Fair point," she conceded.

"So Malefica is some kind of bride of blood magic?" Aveline mused, the implications seemed to make her take her next drink of wine deeper.

"Or daughter? Some prophets claim to be the direct creations of those they worship," Fenris suggested.

"Yeah, maybe she has them convinced that blood magic itself has taken on a corporeal form?" Hawke said. No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she wanted to shovel them back in. Such a vile thought, and the mental images it produced were inescapable. Hawke just stared into the fire, Fenris swished his wine around slowly in his glass, and Aveline looked like she may need to step outside and kill something as a result of the mere suggestion of such a thing.

"Time to change the subject, I think!" Aveline declared. She delved into a long tale of her most recent dealings with Knight-Commander Meredith. Hawke's mind wandered and she settled on watching Fenris as he listened, sipping his wine and nodding along at interesting moments. His lyrium markings glowed through even his dark woolen tunic, and Hawke wondered if there was any fabric that would hide the markings from view. Not that she thought he should hide them, if anything the opposite. They were what made Fenris, Fenris. Despite how much he may despise them and where they came from and the magister that gave them to him, they had been what created the man that sat before her today, who she would trade for nothing else.

"So this 'dangerous apostate' was no more than an eight-year-old child who'd found out about her powers less than a week prior. I understand diligence, but Meredith is taking it to a whole new level," Aveline said, finishing her glass. Fenris rose to pour her more.

"So, speaking of children, what about it, any little Aveline's or Donnic's in your future?" Hawke asked, attempting to steer the subject away from templars and mages, a topic she wasn't totally sure Aveline and Fenris would agree on.

"Oh Hawke, I don't think so. Can you imagine bringing a child into the world right now, with this political climate? It might seem terrible to say, but I certainly hope not," she said, taking another drink. Hawke sighed, it always came back to templars and mages, it seemed.

There was a sudden commotion in the hall, and they looked to Fenris questioningly. He shrugged and rose from his seat to walk toward the door to the study, only to have Varric whip the door open and reel in.

"Feel free to let yourself in, Dwarf," Fenris said dryly as Varric sped past him.

"I've got a lead on another flock. A patron at the Hanged Man was talking about an underground mage church he heard of that shirked the Maker. They'd invited his sister who's in the circle," Varric announced.

"Did you get a location?" Hawke asked, standing. Varric smiled and waved a piece of paper in the air, "We should probably hurry, there's a list of dates written along the side, looks like they move every other night, but not sure what time. I already sent Anders for Sebastian, they'll meet us there."

Hawke nodded, and walked to Varric, taking a look at the map, "I should run home for my armor and sword – I'll meet you all there as well?" The three nodded and Hawke made her way out of the mansion and quickly home to her estate. This was certainly good news. The more quickly they could act, the more they thinned their ranks; the apostates weren't able to recruit as fast as they'd been able to track them down. Hawke felt strongly that they would be able to discover the identity of the false prophet soon, maybe even tonight. She had to show up eventually, right?

After donning her armor and greatsword, Hawke made her way through the winding streets near the docks to the sewer entrance. Her five companions waited there, looking like they'd only arrived moments prior.

"Ok, same drill?" she asked, and they nodded. Sebastian reached down and lifted the heavy sewer grate open, "Ladies first." He motioned to Aveline with a graceful hand gesture. She smirked and made her way down into the sewers.

"Blondie, that's you," Varric signaled. Anders gave him a scowl that could have rivaled Fenris's and followed the Guard Captain down, followed by Varric and Fenris.

"Oh I'm not a lady anymore, guys, I see how it is," Hawke called after them, following the men down. Sebastian stepped down and closed the hatch above him. As the stench hit Hawke's nose she was reminded why the docks were her least favorite place in Kirkwall. Not only did the sewers reek of the bodily waste that culminated here after being funneled down from as high as the Viscount's Keep, but food waste of all kinds were dumped here to decompose, mostly diseased fish.

"Ok, let's make this quick," she encouraged, and led the way. It didn't take long to come upon the doorway, again marked with the bloody symbol of a maleficar.

Hawke signaled to Fenris who lead his group around to the side entrance.

"Careful Hawke," Anders whispered as he followed Fenris, both of whom looked a bit uneasy.

"Always," she said and gave him a smile. She waited a few moments and then pushed the door open.

Hawke found herself thankful for the stench of filth and rotten fish, as she now realized the smell it was overpowering. Aveline gasped, having never seen its likes before, and Sebastian hung his head in defeat.

"No need, Fenris," Hawke managed, "Don't come in." She stepped inside and gave the room a sweeping glance, almost twenty bodies? And more barrels of blood, more than these bodies could have supplied. She felt an immense anger well up inside her.

"Maker, save us," she heard Varric's stunned voice as he entered through the door behind her, the others stood silently in the doorway, mostly looking away or down. Hawke was finding it difficult to breath. She wanted nothing more than to find the person responsible, nothing including breathing. She didn't deserve a breath she took if it wasn't actively involved in hunting down this filth of Thedas. She felt a gentle hand rest lightly on her neck and through the blurry, furious wetness in the corners of her eyes, she saw a form step next to her.

"Hawke," it said, but it sounded so very far away. She felt the muscles in her forehead cramp from the scowl she had formed, her teeth ached from clenching her jaw too tight.

"Aralynn," Fenris all but whispered. Since her mother's death, there was no one left that called her that. She turned and looked him in the eye, which seemed to ground her, remind her how to be human. She took a breath and gave Fenris a nod to indicate she was all right. When she turned back to the scene, she saw it. Stuck into a barrel with a bloody dagger. She ripped the note down and read it frantically:

_Dear Messere Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall,_

_Though we are delighted you have taken an interest in our faith, we regret to inform you that we are not currently recruiting new members. When we're able to open our ranks to the public again, you will certainly be the first to know._

The note was signed only with a scribbled rendition of the maleficar symbol.

"Is this a trap?" Anders asked, checking over his shoulder.

"No," Hawke shook her head as she crumpled the note in her fist, "It's a warning."


	9. Guilt

Hawke didn't remember how she got back to her estate that night. She knew it was by way of the Hanged Man, however, and when she woke with the early morning light, she was still in her gambeson, leather gorget and most of her chainmail. She pulled the pieces off and piled them next to where her plate had somehow been neatly piled. She found the explanation asleep on the lounge on the landing, sunlight mere minutes from waking him. The sound of the door creaking open seemed to do the job, however, and Fenris sat up wearily as he noticed Hawke standing in the doorway.

"Sorry, Hawke, I didn't mean to intrude. You seemed… not well. I didn't want you to be alone if you woke up in the night."

Hawke felt her heart skip a beat then said, "I didn't make too big of an ass of myself, did I?"

He smiled, as if remembering something quite amusing, "No Hawke, but there  _were_  some requests…" She raised an eyebrow.

"Some of the patrons wanted a reenactment… of the duel… and the statue. There was a melon, torch, and fire involved."

Hawke let out a resounding sigh and rubbed her temples deeply, "Ok, I don't need to know more." Fenris chuckled for a few moments and she found herself enjoying the warm rumble of it. She could make him laugh after all.

"Thank you for returning me safely," she said genuinely.

"Of course, Hawke. I remain at your side," he smiled her favorite one-corner smile and she noticed the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he was being sincere. The elf rose to leave and Hawke followed. She opened the door for him and hung on it as he passed by.

"Fenris, when you invited me over last night? You… didn't invite everyone, did you? And I invited Aveline?" she asked.

Fenris looked briefly sheepish as he turned to face her, but recovered quickly, "It doesn't matter Hawke, we're all family." Hawke was a little shocked by this comment, she was never really sure Fenris liked any of them at all, nevertheless considered them family. Maybe it was part of his "crisis of faith", she thought.

She smiled, "Well, I'm sorry anyways. It wasn't my place to assume."

"Make sure you eat. You're probably still drunk," he quipped, and left with a smile. Hawke shut the door after him and memories of what happened in the sewer came rushing back. Looks like the ale didn't do its job, she thought as she moved toward the kitchen.

She sat on the kitchen counter and chewed on a loaf of bread as she ran through the facts in her head again. She'd never felt so frustrated by a situation before, so helpless. They were back to square one and would be sitting on their hands again until something else surfaced. She was forced to wonder the disturbing thoughts she had been holding back for too long. Were those sacrifices made solely to send Hawke a message? How many more would they kill just to prove a point to her? The thought was to strike while the iron was hot, wipe them out before they had a chance to gain a following. But it seemed to be too late. Would it be better to back off? Would it save more lives?

Hawke grabbed a hunk of cheese and wandered into the study. She laid on the lounge by the fire, nibbling at the cheese and running through scenarios in her head. It wasn't long before she started feeling drowsy, her full stomach and activities the previous evening catching up with her. She stared at the fire, striving to come up with a plan, but let sleep take her instead.

_She knew the dream wasn't real. She hadn't seen Aveline in those clothes since they first stepped foot into Kirkwall. Where were they headed? She wondered as she followed Aveline down the steps towards the docks._

" _They're here, Hawke," she said, and then they were. It was strange, they all wore the clothing she had first met them in. Varric, Anders, Fenris, Sebastian, even Merrill. They all looked so much younger. Did they really look that way only four years ago? Had this life in Kirkwall really aged them so much?_

" _Who will be the first?" Aveline asked. Hawke swallowed, she didn't know who to pick. Why was she picking anyone to start with? She could only shake her head at Aveline._

" _It has to be someone, Hawke," she said, "If you don't pick, she will." A deep red mist hovered behind the group, shifting erratically as Hawke tried to look at it. Every time she found it again it moved._

" _I can't, Aveline," Hawke found herself pleading with the warrior._

" _You can pick me, I don't mind," Aveline said sincerely. Hawke gaped at her, then heard Merrill scream. She turned to look and the remnants of a battle suddenly lay out before her. Dead guardsman, maleficarum and Kirkwallers littered the street around the statue of the Champion. Of_ her _, she thought. A few meters away, her friends hovered around something, and she rushed over. Isabela kneeled on the ground, sitting on her feet, cradling Fenris's head in her lap, his body marred with deep wounds. Hawke shook her head, then looked up as Sebastian walked toward her carrying Anders' lifeless body._

" _Hawke," Varric said, great burden creasing his face, "Couldn't you have done something?"_

"Messere?" a voice pulled her out of the nightmare, and she startled awake. It was Bodahn, hovering over her with a glass of water.

"Bodahn, sorry. I must have shut my eyes for a second," she said, but when she looked around she noticed no sunlight peeking through the windowpanes.

"You've been sleeping all day, Messere. But that's alright, you need your rest, you don't get enough of it. Hate to wake you, Messere, but the healer has come calling, he seems to think it's very important," Bodahn handed her the glass. She nodded and took it gratefully, downing as much as she could at once. She left the study and went to meet Anders near the front door. As she rounded the corner and saw him, her dream flashed back to her: Anders' limp, lifeless body. She found herself hugging the mage.

"Nice to see you too, Hawke," he said, a bit abashed.

"Sorry," she said, retreating, "I… had a bad dream. It's just good to see you."

He raised an eyebrow, but nodded, "Good news, Hawke. Well, sort of good news. My contacts have caught wind that the prophet has decided to leave with her flock. Apparently somewhere the Champion can't reach them."

" _Good_  news?" Hawke exclaimed, "So they can go kill innocents in another town?"

"Well that's why I said  _sort of_  good news," Anders said carefully, "I already told Aveline, she'll make sure the right people are informed. There's really only a few cities around large enough for a group like that to hide in. They'll be caught, Hawke. It's only a matter of time."

Hawke let the information sink in and found herself nodding.

"Ok, thanks, Anders," she said, her brow knitted, "Do me a favor though, still keep an ear out for it, they could be spreading false rumors. And if you hear what city they end up in, let me know."

"I will, but… I can't let you chase this around Thedas, Hawke," Anders said, concerned, "I've seen good people get consumed by crusades like this before." Hawke just nodded and stared blankly at the muddy boots she'd left on the bench.

"Hey," he said, taking her hand to get her to look up at him, "We did good, Hawke. We did more than good, taking out that many of them? It's a major blow. And if they truly are leaving, the people here will be safe now, and it'll be because of you."

"Of  _us_ ," Hawke corrected.

"Oh, I think you know that without you, we'd have all murdered each other by now. You're integral to the stability of this…" Anders gestured widely with his palms flat, "…whole dynamic. Plus, you'd have to be crazy to want to leave Kirkwall. Just now when things are starting to get interesting?" he joked. She smiled appreciatively.

"I'll leave you to it then. You know – all the championing, and such, that you do," he held his hand up in mock imitation of the statue and raised his eyebrows, "Quite a show you put on last night."

Hawke groaned, and opened the front door, "Out."

Anders obliged but turned as he went, "I  _like_  that Hawke. This one's alright too, but  _that_  one," he said nodding in mock salaciousness, and she slammed the door shut on him.

She sighed. She knew Anders was right, that she would have to let it go eventually. It would take time, she wasn't used to letting things go unresolved. Her vivid dream came back to her now, and as she stood alone in the front hall, she found herself with an insatiable need to also see Fenris alive and well.


	10. Stress Cleaning

After a much needed nap in his own bed, a good meal, some wine, a warm bath, some more wine, buffing his sword, more wine, making some minor repairs to his armor, and more wine, Fenris was out of things to do. He decided to resort to his default activity: cleaning the mansion. He didn't have much to fill his days with, and the mansion was quite large. By the time he finished cleaning, the other end was dusty again.

He started in the study, emptying the ashes from the fireplace, scrubbing it clean, and putting in new wood. As he swept the stone floor, his mind wandered to his visits to the Chantry over the last couple weeks. Sebastian often irritated him with his overly intense virtue, however he seemed wise beyond his years, which Fenris respected. After seeing the atrocities committed at the cave on the Wounded Coast, Fenris was brought back to a time in his life that had become more and more easy to forget. The acts had stirred a part of him that he was trying to push out, reminders of things Danarius had done or made Fenris do. Being impetuous was one thing - that was who he was. But the ruthless, pitiless murderer Danarius had forced him to be was not.

He had asked the prince what kind of direction the Chantry could offer in way of becoming a better person, or at least making sure you stayed the way you were. Were goals required, or was a desire for stability acceptable? How could he make sure the past stayed in the past? He knew that how he actually formed the questions were not nearly so concise. It had been a difficult thing for Fenris to admit to the man, and he did a great deal of 'I have a friend who', and glowering, and almost leaving before he got to the point. To the prince's credit, he was quite patient with him. Sebastian's advice was simple: even if he didn't want to pray, something which Fenris made perfectly clear multiple times and in multiple ways, to try to just spend some time in the Chantry. Reflect on things without the distraction of life impeding your ability to do so. Let your thoughts flow freely, and the Maker will guide them.

And it seemed to work. If the Chantry offered him anything, it was the opportunity to sit in solitude, uninterrupted, and give himself a chance at remembering who it was he wasn't, so that he could focus his energies on who he was. So it seemed, what had initially prompted him to seek Sebastian's insight resulted in the elf finding the need to return every few days. The place was… peaceful, he enjoyed the ambiance of it. And the people that flocked there, they were good souls, more often than not. It felt like he was able to heal and recharge there, simply by proximity. Or maybe it was just the ample daylight, he thought pessimistically.

He thought about Sebastian's implications that his initial inquiry into Andrastianism was about Hawke. What did Sebastian think his plan was, to fully convert himself so that he'd be worthy of courting a Lady of Kirkwall? He never thought of Hawke as a particularly devoted follower of the Maker. He knew she believed in the religion, had faith maybe even, but never that it was of particular importance to her. Did Sebastian know something he didn't? Now that he thought about it, maybe the prince was right. They encountered horrific things all the time over the last four years, and yes this was worse than most, but certainly no worse than some of the things he'd seen in Tevinter. Why was it important  _now_  for him to stay ahead of his demons?

He finished the study and moved on to the kitchen. The fireplace was particularly bad here, he must have skipped it the last time he made the rounds, and he found himself practically covered in soot by the time he was done. He headed up to draw himself a bath when he heard a knock on the door. He opened it, revealing Hawke. No armor or weapon, so no news of a grave injustice.

"Nice," Hawke said, wiping a finger down his cheek and turning it toward him to show its blackness.

"I know, human," he grumbled, "I was about to clean up." He stepped aside to let her pass and shut the door.

"You actually clean this place?" Hawke asked.

"Yes, Hawke. You think dust just disappears because there's no legitimate owner?" She smirked and set her jaw.

"Well, I wouldn't know where dust goes, due to all my servants, right?" she asked, poking fun at his unintentional insult from a few weeks back.

"That's right," Fenris replied, then took her hand, bent into a deep bow and kissed it lightly in the fashion of nobility, "What can a lowly elven squatter do for such a fine Lady of Kirkwall?"

Hawke looked perturbed and shook the loose soot off her hand, "My request is two-fold. One – make sure you're alive and well, which it appears you are due to your extreme  _hilariousness_. Two – Anders came by. It seems our favorite prophet has decided on a change of scenery."

Fenris's eyebrows raised, "Oh really?"

"That's what his contacts heard, yes."

"Where to?" Fenris asked, grabbing a cloth off the table and trying to wipe some of the soot off his face and hands.

"You're making it worse," Hawke informed him then continued, "Not sure, yet, I told him to keep an ear out, though he seemed pretty adamant that we shouldn't follow the trail out of Kirkwall."

"Yeah, the mage wouldn't," Fenris grumbled, then turned and walked back toward the kitchen. Hawke followed.

"Be fair, Fenris, you know Anders despises blood magic," Hawke defended.

"Yes, the abomination that despises blood magic, I get what he is, Hawke," Fenris said begrudgingly and dipped the cloth in a bowl of water to keep working at the soot. In all his contemplation over the last few weeks, he hadn't managed to find a way to like mages. Hawke seemed keen to let the point go.

"His argument seems reasonable. We can't expect to travel, unchallenged, from city to city fighting injustice," Hawke said.

"Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself," Fenris said. Hawke crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, gazing into the fire.

"You're right, I want to go," she said finally.

"There's my little Hawke," Fenris quipped, wringing the cloth out for another go at it.

"I can't see it working though. I can't fight them myself, you guys have lives, I get that. Aveline obviously couldn't come," Hawke said as she hopped up to sit on the counter.

"She  _is_  the only one of us with a job," Fenris interjected.

"Varric always has something or another going on, Sebastian wouldn't feel comfortable leaving the Chantry for that long, and it sounds like Anders wouldn't support it," she said.

"Well, regardless Hawke, no matter where you go, what I said this morning endures. I remain at your side. Say the word," he didn't realize until he'd said it how the words may have sounded to her. Not that he didn't mean them that way, but he was beginning to realize why the others seemed to see his feelings for Hawke before he did. Not wanting to meet her gaze right away, Fenris cupped water in his hands and splashed his face a few times. He used a new cloth to pat his face dry and looked over to Hawke.

"Still making it worse," she said, "Now it just looks like your eye makeup ran really badly."

"My  _eye makeup_?" Fenris questioned, a little disturbed.

"Thank you, Fenris," Hawke reverted, "I appreciate that you support my decisions." He gave her a small, but sincere nod.

"Hey you two," Varric poked his head in the kitchen door.

"Seriously, Dwarf, are you aware of doors?" Fenris growled.

"As far as I know, you're the only one that can phase through them, Angsty," Varric said, "Nice look, by the way. I know we all had quite a go at it last night, but we're getting together again tomorrow night at the Hanged Man to have a going away party for the prophet. I'd invite her, but she's notoriously difficult to get a hold of."

"Oh Varric, I don't know," Hawke replied. Fenris actually saw color flush into Hawke's face. He could not say he had ever seen her embarrassed.

"Oh don't worry, Hawke. The Tuesday crowd is a completely different lot," Varric smiled, "Come on, it'll be good for morale."

She sighed, "Fine, but only if you don't make me drink."

"You said fine first, so I disregard the rest of your sentence," Varric said and ducked out of the kitchen before Hawke could argue. "Be there at dusk!" he called back and they heard the front door shut. Hawke sighed.

"Was it really that funny?" she asked.

"Yes," Fenris said definitively, wiping his hands off in the now black bowl of water.

"Alright," she said, sliding down off the counter, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow night."

"He didn't say  _I_  had to come," Fenris said, and Hawke gave him a level look.

"You're filthy, you should take care of that," she said as she left the kitchen. Fenris smiled and sighed, wringing the dirty cloth out one last time. As entertaining as it was to see Hawke let loose a little, the previous night had worried him. He hadn't seen Hawke 'drink to drown the pain' before, that was something he did. And he didn't want Hawke to be anything like him.


	11. A Brewing Storm

"Rogues! I need backup!" Aveline yelled. Hawke pulled her sword out of the slaver's gut and turned to locate the captain. Down the hill at least twenty meters, five of the dagger-wielding scoundrels stalked around Aveline, who was crouched in a defensive position. Anders and Fenris were up the hill even farther; and the five guardsmen had made their way almost down to the coast. Hawke was by far the closest. She dispatched another slaver as he slid down the rocks toward her. To make it in time, Hawke knew she would have to descend the rocky cliff in front of her instead of the long path that wound down the hill.

"Anders!" she yelled, and then vaulted off the cliff. She prayed that the mage heard her as she dropped heavily toward the ground, almost five meters in total. She knew he did as her decent slowed, the air getting heavy below her, cushioning her fall. Though Anders' spell did the heavy lifting, she still rolled out of the fall to help decrease the impact. Her elbow hit a rock hidden by the sand, and she wrenched it badly. She passed her greatsword to the other hand as she stalked toward the rogues, shaking out her bad arm. You have to work, she told her elbow, just for a few more minutes.

Aveline had taken one of the rogues out, but another had got her badly in the leg, and her ability to hold her defensive position was waning. Hawke roared in defiance as she swung her sword in a wide, destructive arc, felling two of the rogues. Her elbow burned horribly, and weakness befell it, not allowing her to lift her sword in order to block the oncoming onslaught of dagger strikes. She dropped the weapon and used her gauntlets to thwart the rogue's quick attacks as he searched for breaks in her armor. She saw Aveline fell the other slaver and hoped the warrior could make it over to her in time. The rogue gained a glancing blow just above her gauntlet, as Aveline struck him down from behind. Great, now both arms are useless, Hawke thought, the cut stinging, though she found the weakness of the other elbow far worse. The two women turned toward Fenris and Anders, who had just finished dispatching the rest, and the guardsmen were already making their way back up the hill.

"It is done!" Aveline announced. Anders and Fenris started to make their way back down the winding path toward them.

"Thanks, Hawke, sometimes these packs require a little more… oomph than the Guard can handle," Aveline said.

"Oh yes, that's what we are. Oomph," Hawke repeated the word, liking the sound it made.

"Maybe we've finally discovered a good name for our group," Aveline grinned.

"The Oomphs," Hawke said again, why did she find that word so amusing?

Anders and Fenris approached, the latter was injured badly, a deep cut on his flank.

"Fenris, that looks bad," Hawke said with concern.

"Yeah, mage, it looks bad," Fenris said, holding the gash delicately as blood seeped onto his hands.

"I had to throw a lot of fire and ice and lightning, to make up for your failures. I didn't have the time or energy for healing. Magic has limits, you know," Anders said defensively.

"I was only  _failing_  because of the  _gaping wound_  in my side, mage."

"I still don't understand why you can't phase out of the impact, I don't get how that works."

"I'm about two seconds from showing you an example of how it works," Fenris growled.

"Ok, you two, that's quite enough," Hawke interceded, "Anders heal it please, it disturbs me."

Anders yielded begrudgingly and motioned for the elf to sit on a nearby rock outcropping. Hawke sighed. It'd been three weeks since the prophet supposedly left town, and the tensions between Anders and Fenris grew daily. Not only did they disagree about following the maleficarum out of Kirkwall, but Anders was growing more and more discontented with the situation at the circle, and he often took it out on the elf. It seemed like every day there was a new story about a mage made tranquil for no reason. Hawke couldn't make sense of it, she knew Knight-Commander Meredith to be strict, but she had a hard time believing she could get away with arbitrarily making mages tranquil.

Hawke found her greatsword, and with both arms under extreme agony, she managed to strap it into the sheath on her back. A few moments later, Fenris approached, still holding his side in pain, though the wound was closed. Anders followed as Aveline's husband, Guardsman Donnic, approached them.

"Thank you for the assist," he said to the three, "We're buying at the Hanged Man this evening, if you'll join us."

Hawke looked to her two angry friends. Fenris stared grumpily away from Anders, who sighed and patted the elf on the back apologetically.

"Thank you, we will," she said, taking their silence as consent. They made their way back up the coast to the gates of Kirkwall, the waning sun peaking out just above an ominous storm cloud that was rolling it's way across the sea and towards the city-state. The rumbles of thunder grew louder as they climbed the steps toward the Hanged Man, and the first few heavy droplets of rain spattered their armor as they made their way inside. Hawke followed Anders to a table and sat down so he could attend to her injuries. Aveline and Fenris joined them as the guardsmen began to pass around drinks.

Donnic held his up, "The last of the Vyrantium slaver crew has been dispatched, thanks to the Champion and her associates."

"To the Champion!" the other guardsmen yelled as they toasted and drank. Hawke flushed as she tipped her glass gratefully towards the men and drank. She always felt very uncomfortable when people attributed her companion's actions to her solely. She may be what they rallied around, but as individuals they were her equals as fighters, probably better. After all, she couldn't even swing her sword earlier.

She massaged the still sore tendon in her elbow as Varric sat down on the bench next to her.

"Who'd you save from certain demise now?" he asked, taking a drink of ale, "Virgins taken captive by a dragon? A capsized ship full of starving urchins? A ship full of virgin urchins taken captive by a flock of dragons?"

"Just helping the Guard out with some slavers, they really did most of the work," Hawke said, taking a drink of her own.

"We've been working on the Vyrantium band for months, Hawke. Taking the rest out that quickly was a huge success, we'd have been dealing with it for weeks without you," Aveline boasted.

"Not me, Fenris and Anders took out that whole band at the top of the hill alone. And you did most of the work with those rogues, Aveline. I mean- " she held out her gauntlets as evidence, marred from being used as a shield against so many dagger strikes. Fenris laughed.

"That's one way to use your armor I guess," Anders said, seeming almost impressed.

"Your desperation distracted them for me," Aveline smiled. Hawke inclined her head and kept drinking. Anders started to tell Varric a somewhat exaggerated version of how it all went down, when Sebastian walked in. Hawke smiled at him and he pulled up a chair to join their overly full table. She hadn't seen everyone together since the prophet's 'going away party', and it was nice to see them happy and joking again. She always wondered what could be lurking around the next corner, something that would tear them all apart for good, she feared. So Hawke smiled to herself and took the opportunity to bask in their happiness, as she never knew when it might be the last time.

Anders made the sounds of explosions and gestured wildly as he continued his account, he was always happy when he got to do some damage and wasn't just considered support. Fenris had no qualms about correcting him, although by the end the two were passing the story back and forth, happily exaggerating the details to the degree that Fenris was so badly wounded that his torso was practically severed as he took out four slavers with one mighty swing of his greatsword. Varric, practically giddy, took in every detail, Hawke knew, so that he could adequately exaggerate it even  _more_  upon his own retelling. Somehow Donnic had found room on the bench next to Aveline, and the two were being… somewhat disgusting… but the sound of Aveline giggling was a rare occurrence. Hawke was reminded of how pleased she was that her friend had found someone that made her so happy. Sebastian was in conversation with a guardsman, likely giving spiritual advice. Always working, just like Anders and his humor. She was always a bit envious of the way those two were able to heal the bodies and souls of the people of Kirkwall. They were able to do good in a positive way, instead of the aggressive approach they usually took killing the evil that plagued the streets.

Despite the exaggerated credit she continually got, she was happy to get to do some good again. They'd been so wrapped up in the maleficarum church that their usual bandit and slaver dispatching had gone by the wayside. Maybe Anders was right, maybe it was best to let the authorities in the other cities deal with them now. She couldn't protect all of Thedas, but Kirkwall was hers. She could make a difference here, and the poor city truly needed it. The thunder roared and rain fell in sheets outside, causing Hawke to appreciate even more the warm fire and cheerful friends that surrounded her. Maybe being the Champion of  _just_  Kirkwall wouldn't be so bad.


	12. The Walk Home

The storm moved on, rolling northward across the Vimmark Mountains toward Starkhaven. It left the stone cobble streets of Hightown wet with puddles that reflected the newly revealed full moon, which cast heavy shadows across the quite streets. Fenris was thankful the storm had passed, allowing the walk home to be relatively dry as he and Hawke climbed the steps into the Hightown market.

"I think I'm going to help with patrols again this week, if you want to join us," Hawke offered.

"You know I am very busy, Hawke," Fenris teased, "Being a man of faith now and all." The joke earned him a laugh. The moment slowed and he let himself bask in it. Her quirky closed-mouth smile that came up at one corner, the strands of hair that flew loose around her face, the way her eyes glowed as they caught the moonlight that reflected off the wet street. Fenris had come clean with Hawke about his discussions with Sebastian and recent time spent at the Chantry. It felt good to be open with her, and his honesty was rewarded with her full support, maybe even a bit of admiration. Her faith had been tested, quite exhaustively, in the last five years and she had also craved a way to keep her character in check.

"Hawke," Fenris started. He had begun this sentiment many times, but was never able to find the words. No time like the present? He looked to her and she smiled, waiting for him to continue.

"I never got a chance to tell you how truly sorry I am about your mother. And I want you to know that if you need to talk, I'm here."

"Thanks, Fenris," Hawke said sincerely, then reverted, "You live, by far, the closest to me, so I appreciate the convenience. Having to travel all the way down to Darktown just to chat with Anders, pfff. And I don't think they even let people into the Chantry at night." She smiled at her own joke, looking at Fenris expectantly. Fenris set his jaw but couldn't keep the smile off his face. By now it seemed Hawke had caught on to his insecurities about her feelings towards the other men in her life, namely Anders and Sebastian. Though his feelings for her had not yet been vocalized, Fenris felt strongly they were reciprocated.

"Fenris!" Hawke suddenly screamed. As Hawke began to step in front of him, time slowed. He saw the apostates, two of them, one standing in front of the other, red cloaks billowing behind them as they stepped from the shadows. The one in the front, a woman, had red markings on her face, tattoos or paint, he couldn't tell as her cloaked face was obscured in shadow. She glared at them with furious vehemence. Her hand was outstretched, and she held something in the other, a vial? It was then Hawke eclipsed his view, and all he could see was the blood-red glow of magic slowly intensify, silhouetting her body as she thrust herself between him and the apostates. There was an explosion of light, and then only darkness.

He had seen Hawke injured before, badly at times, but it wasn't like this. As he watched Hawke fall to the ground, legs crumpling lifelessly beneath her, he could feel the essence of her vanish. Completely removed from existence, only a void left in its place. He didn't see it happen, but he realized what he did as he pulled his fist out of the mage's chest. The other apostate looked on in shock, long enough for Fenris to swing his blade and end her life.

He turned back to Hawke and dropped to his knees at her side. She was splayed out in front of him, but it wasn't like sleep or death. It wasn't like anything. Like she was a husk. He scrambled to dig beneath her leather gorget to find her pulse. He cursed her heavy armor, for all the protection it promised, it hadn't done her any good. As his fingers found the spot, he had to fight away the panic, to be able to stay still long enough to sense it. And as he waited to feel it, that precious thrum of life, a million lifetimes passed. He found himself beseeching the Maker, for everything that had happened to Fenris, none of it seemed bad compared to this moment.

Would the Maker really allow this to happen? Could this be seen as justice through any eyes? His emotions were fluid, one moment he found himself overpowered with anger at Hawke for jumping in front of him, the next he was immobilized with despair, the next plotting revenge on the Maker himself. He could feel his trapped memories; they pounded at the surface of his mind. They begged release, and promised to hold within their ranks moments of his life that would overshadow this tragedy. Anything to make this seem less disastrous. But he didn't believe them.

It had been mere seconds. He knew he had to act quickly, though he didn't know why. His consciousness seemed to dispel from his body, rushing upwards toward the stars to gaze down upon the scene. He could barely hear this Fenris as he screamed for the guard. This Fenris demanded they bring Aveline to the Hawke estate at once. This Fenris instructed another guard to find Anders in Darktown. This Fenris insisted they bring Varric to him immediately. This Fenris was frantic.

When suddenly something caused him to go rushing back into himself. He waited to feel it again. It was so weak, so distant; it could have been an errant rumbling within the earth itself. But it was there, Hawke's heartbeat.


	13. Saving Hawke

_Maybe this was it. Would it be so bad? She didn't know what came after, but whatever it was, wouldn't she find her family there? Could she truly see them again, her father and mother reunited? Bethany and Carver, happy and joking with each other again? She could almost hear them laughing. And she had got to see Fenris, at the end. To see his wry smile, feel her own heart skip a beat when she caught him enjoying a moment they shared. When he didn't think she noticed him stealing a look at her. She'd have enjoyed more time with him, but it was a blissful note to leave it on. Maybe it was her time to go. Maybe she'd done all she could to help this broken world. This new place seemed peaceful, anyway._

In one swoop, Aveline cleared the contents of Sandal's enchanting table onto the floor. She swung the heavy wooden table out away from the wall. As delicately as he could manage, Fenris lowered Hawke onto the table. He began to remove her armor, when he found himself pulled aside by Aveline. He saw Anders over her shoulder, hovering over Hawke. Fenris felt helpless, and this made him furious, and then he felt Aveline holding him back, and telling him to keep it together, that he had to listen, to save Hawke he had to listen. So he listened.

"What happened?" she implored. Such a simple question, to which Fenris had no good answer.

"There was a vial," he said, but he knew he wasn't making any sense.

"Varric is there now, he's collecting everything he can," Aveline reassured.

"I don't know," he said, feeling more powerless than he ever had before, "I've never seen anything like it. They just stepped up to us and she cast  _one_  spell, it was bright. Red. Right at her chest, and then she was down," Fenris shook his head, not believing his own words.

"Aveline!" Anders yelled, and the guard captain turned to see a look of complete disbelief on the mage's face as he stood over Hawke.

"It stopped…" his voice cracked. Fenris couldn't breathe. It was  _just_  there, he felt it. It was weak but he felt it.

"Do something!" Fenris heard himself demand. Anders eyes grew wide and after a moment he seemed to snap out of it.

"I need lyrium potions, like, yesterday," Anders said as he ripped Hawke's chestplate off and tossed it aside. He placed his hands over her heart and closed his eyes.

"I have some," Bodahn announced, and the dwarf began digging through a chest by the fire.

"I'll need more, I'm sure," Anders said, sweat beginning to pill on his brow. In his panic, Fenris was somehow still able to feel pity for the mage. He was Hawke's only hope. Certainly he was the only man in Kirkwall, if not the Free Marches or Thedas itself that could help her. Was it divinity that Hawke had him in her life?

"Alright, listen up. I'm going to get lyrium potions. Bodahn, once you've collected what you can, boil some water. Was this blood magic?" she asked.

"Yes," Fenris and Anders said in unison.

"We need to act fast, when Sebastian arrives have him help Varric chase any leads he may have from examining the bodies. We need to figure out what this is," Aveline said and then turned to Fenris.

"You know what you need to do," she said. He nodded solemnly. Of course he would do anything to save her, including that.

In an instant, Fenris found himself knocking on the meek elf's alienage door. It creaked open, and Merrill stood before him, staff in her hand defensively.

"Fenris?" she said, surprised, lowering the staff.

"It's Hawke," Fenris started.

"She's mad at me, Fenris. And I'm mad at her, she still has the Arulin'Holm," the elf protested, as if about to launch into a complete discourse on the matter. Fenris noticed his lyrium markings beginning to glow with the kind of anger he couldn't control.

" _Listen, mage,_ " he growled, calming himself. Merrill's eyes grew wide with terror but said nothing.

"Hawke's dying. It was blood magic, but… we can't fix it. Anders can't fix it."

Merrill nodded somberly, and after a moment said, "I'm going to need some time. I have the books, I think, but it will take me time to find what I need."

Fenris shook his head and said, defeat lining his voice, "There is no time, Merrill."

The mousy elf nodded gravely, "I need to see her."

They quickly made their way to Hightown, Fenris doing his best to explain the incidents of the last month to Merrill. They arrived back at Hawke's estate to find Anders, glowing with the blue light of Justice, his hands pressed to Hawke's heart. Empty bottles of lyrium littered the ground at his feet, and Aveline stood nearby emptying more out of a sack. Varric and Sebastian stood over a table that had been placed near the fire, examining the evidence they'd brought back from the maleficarum's bodies. Fenris dumped the books they'd brought onto the table as Merrill went over to examine Hawke. He watched as Anders slumped, seeming to have fully expended himself. Fenris had never seen him look so pale and sickly.

"Her pulse is back, but… it's temporary," Anders said, wiping sweat from his brow, "I can't break through it. It's like I can't… get to the essence of her. Something's blocking the way."

Fenris looked to Merrill, whose look of concerned disbelief didn't encourage him. Anders sat on a nearby chair and held his head in his hands, clearly exhausted. Merrill seemed to steel her resolve, and marched over towards the fire, Aveline following. She looked to Fenris and Sebastian and instructed them, "Check the books, they're in Elvish but you can look for the words linhalam, era'din... and irlin."

They listened, each grabbing a tome and opening it to search.

She looked to Varric, "What did you find?"

"Not much I'm afraid. The one with the tattoos on her face – I'm assuming she was our prophet - had three of these bottles on her, and another one that was crushed in her hand," the dwarf said, offering a vial to Merrill.

"I saw her holding one before she cast the spell on Hawke," Fenris clarified.

"Strange," Merrill said, "It's almost like she was using it to augment her powers, like lyrium..." She held up one of the vials of dark red liquid to examine it in the light.

"Wait…" she said after a few moments, "You said they were collecting blood?"

"A lot of it," Aveline said gravely.

She set the vial down, grabbed one of the tomes and opened it. After sifting through the pages for a few seconds, she settled on a passage.

"Here – nadas lin'himsa – it's an ancient rite of blood magic," Merrill turned the book toward the others, revealing a depiction of an ancient symbol. Sebastian and Fenris exchanged a look, then Sebastian said, "We've seen that symbol before – they use it to mark their meeting places."

Merrill sighed heavily.

"What's the rite?" Varric asked.

"It literally means… inevitably, blood becomes one. But it's… complex… but basically they used blood magic and creation magic to augment blood with powerful spells," she said, "But… it can't be created by just anyone, I can't remember what it was."

Merrill sat now, turning the book back toward her and burying her face in it. She gripped the sides of her head, trying to remember what she knew.

"Belhim – that's it," she said, flipping through the same book until she found what she was looking for, "Here – belhim'irsa elgar. It says it bound the souls of many into one… spirit… the translation isn't perfect. But this nadas lin'himsa – the potion - is linked to it. It can only be created by this Belhim'irsa. It's rough, but… 'the one of many'… or… 'the power of many is one'?"

She trailed off as she focused on the words, frustrated by her inability to get a clear translation. Fenris slowly shut his book as the implications of what Merrill was saying became more clear.

"It's a summoning ritual?" he asked.

"Yes, I think. It's different though, it requires many people."

"Many  _willing_  people?" Varric asked, thinking about the same thing Fenris was – all the poor souls they'd found at the cave and in the sewers.

"Yes… well, no," Merrill said as she continued to read the text, "Ok, yes. To summon the 'one of many' required many powerful mages. All using blood magic  _and_  creation magic, so, they'd have to be willing I suppose. Then this 'one of many' – the Belhim'irsa - was able to make the potions."

She skimmed a few pages, then pointed to the text as she read along, "It required the… blood of those… of pure … oh, of innocents!" Merrill was happy to have the right translation, but then had to repeat herself solemnly, "The blood of innocents. Lots of it. It gets concentrated down…" she said, giving the vials of blood that sat on the table a cautious look.

"You think this is what it is?" Aveline asked.

"Maybe… but, I can't imagine how they even knew about the rite, nevertheless collected mages powerful enough to actually do it," Merrill replied.

"They were recruiting from the circle," Varric pointed out.

Merrill protested, "It's…  _so_  complicated though. The 'one of many' couldn't even create the potions in this world – it had to be done in the Fade."

"How do you mix a potion in the Fade and then bring it back with you?" Aveline asked, clearly troubled.

"The same way you bring a demon," Fenris said.

"So it's like a concentrated bottle of blood magic?" Sebastian asked.

"No, it's not magic in and of itself – it's a tool… to augment your power. To… very extreme degrees," Merrill clarified.

"Why creation magic as well as blood magic?" Aveline asked.

"I suppose… creation magic has a way of affecting the body that the other, more destructive magics don't," Merrill explained.

"So they were able to warp creation magic to be used destructively?" Sebastian asked, incredulous.

"That could be why Anders can't get through," Fenris pointed out.

"Ok, if this is what it really is, how can we fix it? Reverse it, undo it, whatever?" Varric asked, starting to sound worried, a trait Fenris did not often see in the dwarf. Merrill shook her head slowly as she thought.

"I need to speak with Anders for a few moments."

She grabbed the book and went over to the mage, who sat stoically on his chair near Hawke, staring at the lifeless body, his brow knitted in frustration. She talked quietly with him, and he stood up, following her into the kitchen.

Suddenly, the mansion seemed preternaturally still. Was life really going on outside these walls? Were babies being born, were trade deals being made, were mages and templars starting a war? Would the sun come up, let the clouds wisp across the sky, and then sink again the next day? It felt like hours were ticking by, though Fenris knew it to be only minutes. He noticed Legion now, curled up under Hawke's table. He was whimpering lightly, and he suddenly felt an extreme sadness for the dog. How frustrating to understand everything that went on around you, and have absolutely no ability to help. This wasn't a pack of bandits he could help them kill, or even a scent he could follow to lead them to the cure. He couldn't do anything, except lay under the table and whimper. Fenris sighed, realizing that was about all the good he was doing at the moment as well.

The kitchen door squeaked open and the mages walked back toward where Hawke lay.

"I think we know what to do," Merrill announced. Relief seemed to flood the air in the room, and Fenris felt like he could breathe again.

"It's… dangerous, though," Merrill said.

"Anything, what is it?" Fenris demanded.

"You're not going to like it," Anders said.

"Try me, mage," Fenris growled.

Anders sighed, then looked up to address the whole room, "We need to use blood magic to save Hawke."


	14. The Ritual

_She was remembering now, with much detail, the first time she saw Fenris. His long white hair swung charmingly in his face as he strolled down the steps of the alienage, the humidity creating a white haze off his mystically glowing markings. And yet what had always intrigued her most about the elf was never the bizarre lyrium tattoos that veined his body, but his depth of character. He was resolute in his opinions, but was also unerringly capable of compassion. He sometimes lacked subtlety in his approach, but in the end he was a proponent of doing what was right. What she lacked in fortitude, he made up for in vigor, and it made them a great team. She remembered now where she was, what had happened. Why was she remembering this now?_

And so it seemed, the Maker had a grand sense of humor. Fenris knew what Sebastian would say, that this was the Maker testing his faith. And an untested faith was no faith at all. Frankly he'd had enough of it.

They sat in silence, exchanging a look here or there, but mostly they all had the same thought. Of course they were going to do it. Merrill seemed to take the silence for consent.

"I'll need a few things," Merrill said, "But I'm not a healer, Anders will have to do it." Fenris looked to the man, who looked ashamed, but in no way reluctant. He was her only hope after all, and he would have to use blood magic to do it. Feeling pity for Anders twice in one day, this really was a terrible situation, Fenris thought.

"I'll get what you need," Varric volunteered.

"I'll help," Sebastian offered, and Merrill walked over to tell the two of them what to bring. Aveline listened on, and as the men left she instructed Bodahn to boil more water and tear up some clean cloths. Anders began to remove the rest of Hawke's armor, and Fenris stood up to help. The discomfort was great between the two men as they carefully unbuckled the pieces and set them aside. Fenris wondered the kind of resolve the mage was going to need to stay in control, with Justice inside, clawing at the surface.

"Thank you," Fenris said, thinking he'd never sounded so sincere, "For agreeing to do this."

"Of course," Anders managed, seeming like his thoughts were elsewhere.

"You know, Hawke likely saved your life, Fenris. Your markings… with this kind of magic? I think they'd have acted as an accelerant. You'd have died outright," Anders said, there was coldness in his tone.

"I doubt Hawke knew that when she did it," Fenris said.

"No," Anders said blankly.

"Are you blaming me?" Fenris asked.

"Couldn't you have done  _something_?" Anders accused, helpless anger in his voice.

Aveline interrupted, and it was good, Fenris thought, as he didn't want to murder Hawke's only chance at survival.

"Now boys, let's not get into throwing blame, please," she said diplomatically.

"I know I owe Hawke my life, for more reasons than just this," Fenris said, but Anders didn't look up. Fenris knew Hawke didn't know that it would kill him. She couldn't possibly have had that thought fast enough. Her reaction was gut instinct, to put her own life below Fenris's. He was furious with her for that. He thought that if he ever got to speak to her again, he would be sure to make it clear whose life was worth more.

They finished with Hawke's armor and Fenris suddenly found Anders standing close to him, taking him by the arm.

"I need you to promise me something, Fenris," he said, a look of deadly intensity on his face. Fenris could only nod.

"I need you to promise me that you'll kill me. If it goes wrong."

Fenris shook his head, "It won't go wrong, mage."

"It very much could. I don't even know what will happen with Justice," he had a far off look, as if imagining the destruction it might cause, "It could go very, very wrong. Just promise me."

It wasn't up for debate, not that Fenris cared to argue. If Anders became an abomination, again, he would have to kill him. Fenris nodded, "I will."

An hour passed, or two or three, he had no good sense of time anymore. Anders slept, waking occasionally to consume more lyrium. Eventually, the dwarf and prince returned with the items Merrill needed, and this seemed to cause everyone to stop breathing.

"So," Merrill announced, "This is going to be very dangerous, It's also going to be quite gruesome, I'm afraid, so if you'd like to step out…"

Everyone just stared at her.

"Very well," she piped, and the elf began to set up, instructing Anders as she went.

"I think we'll need to use the vials too," Merrill said to him, "To augment your power."

"I'm walking a fine line here with Justice, Merrill. I want to be able to stay in control," the mage said.

"I understand, but we need to do everything we can to increase our chances. I don't think we have more than one shot at this," she tried to say the last part under her breath, but they could all hear. Anders nodded, the burden seeming a palpable weight on his shoulders.

"Which… reminds me…" Merrill said, as if just thinking of something, though she was a bad liar, "Speaking of increasing our chances – we should really use the most powerful blood we can."

"What makes someone's blood more powerful?" Aveline asked, having never heard of such a thing. Even Anders looked to her questioningly, apparently not in on whatever this plan was.

"A few things, great innocence for one… or… great… tragedy," Merrill said meekly, trying not to catch Fenris's eye. It made perfect sense, Fenris thought. If there was a list of how this situation could get any more ironic, that would be sitting right at the top of it.

After a few awkward moments of silence, Fenris said, "Let's do it then, what are we waiting for?"

"You have to understand, Fenris," Anders was being deadly serious, "This could kill you."

"I know that, mage," Fenris scowled, "Would you not give your life for Hawke's, if you could? Would you all not?" He turned, looking around the room. They all knew they would.

"It's as good as done," he said simply and held his arm out towards Anders. The mage looked up at him, and Fenris set his jaw, resolute. Anders looked him in the eye and gave him an almost imperceptible nod, but it said a lot. It said… thank you. It said, good man. It said, after all this is done, and we have our Hawke back, I'm buying you a drink.

And then he cut deeply into Fenris's forearm.


	15. Waking Up

_She knew why she was remembering Fenris. He was the shining example of perseverance in her life. All he'd been through, to still be whole? It was impressive. So she had to fight. Her waning body required that her mind not become complacent. It needed her to want to live. Something or someone needed her to live. Maybe it was Fenris, or maybe he was just representative of those who did need her, of all the injustices in the world. Who was she anyway, to bow out into the night like this? Was she not the Champion of Kirkwall? Did those people not need someone to fight for them? To banish the injustices of the world?_

Fenris felt very, very weak. In every way - physically, emotionally, spiritually. Blood really was the essence of life, and he was now missing a lot of it. Anders sat down with immense exhaustion, resting his head and arms on the edge of Hawke's table, Fenris's blood covering his hands. He breathed heavily for a few moments, then looked up to the group who looked on in fear.

"That's it, that's all I can do. The rest is on her," he said wearily. Merrill nodded, concern creasing her face. Fenris watched her wavering form walk over to him. He thought she began to wrap his arms with something. The world tipped on it's side, and Fenris thought maybe he'd rest his head for a bit.

"Will he be alright?" a red-headed woman asked.

"I think so," a tiny elf lady replied.

"Blondie, can't you heal him?" – that was a dwarf.

"I'm  _out_ , Varric," the bloody, feathered man responded, "I'm completely  _out_ of magic, I couldn't begin to."

He felt contented when he saw a tall, dashing man in white armor kneeling in prayer by the fire. He didn't know how, but he knew that the man was praying for him. Probably this woman, too, Fenris thought as he looked at the beautiful human female that lay in front of him. She looked like she needed a prayer too.

And then Fenris let sleep take him.

When he woke, he was much cleaner, and hungrier than he ever remembered being. Cheese and bread sat on a table nearby, and he consumed it quickly. The situation came rushing back to him, and he looked to where Hawke lay. She was completely still, but no one was panicking or crying, so he could assume all was well.

"How are you feeling?" Aveline asked, and he found her sitting on a chair next to the lounge he occupied.

"Fine," Fenris said, sitting up, though his head spun with the effort, "Is she alright?"

"Fine," Aveline repeated him, "No change, it's been a few hours."

Fenris looked at the others spread around the room, all completely quite. Anders sat in a chair a near the kitchen door, picking solemnly at a loaf of bread, looking like he would fall asleep any second, though he fought it. Varric and Merrill sat at the table piled with tomes. Merrill was reading one intently as Varric idly flipped a coin. Sebastian sat by the fire, staring into it deeply. What would happen to them all if Hawke left them? Would they simply murder each other like it seemed they always wanted to? Or would they stay together, gaining strength from a common loss? Or, and Fenris thought this the most likely, would they drift apart slowly, running out of excuses to see one another over time?

Fenris stood and pulled a chair across the room to sit next to her. He looked at her lifeless face, resting gently on Aveline's piled cloak. Had pinkness returned to her cheeks? Wishful thinking, he was sure. He would rather remember her full of life, smiling, joking. Or even aggressive Hawke, bent on justice and full of determination. Every other Hawke was better than this Hawke, better than the images that plagued him of her lifeless body falling to the stone street. Maybe Anders was right, maybe he could have done something. Reacted quicker, if he'd have been less distracted by her beauty, by her strength. Was his compassion making him weak? If it was, he thought, he was happy to be the weaker man. He wouldn't trade what he had with Hawke for any amount of security.

He folded her cold fingers into her palm, then cupped her hand in both of his, wearily pressing it to his forehead, closing his eyes. And then it was the two of them, just Fenris and Aralynn. If this was it, he thought, then he had something to say to her.

From the time when his memories of his life began, Fenris had been a negative person. He often wondered if he was the same before he lost his memories. If given a chance to start over, would a person end up the same person? If given infinite chances to start over, would a person  _always_  end up the same? Was who he was then better than who he was now? Could he ever really know one way or the other?

He knew what Hawke would say, that those experiences shaped him, good or ill, into the man he was. They defined him. The person he was before was irrelevant to who he was now, in this life, to his new friends. To his new  _family_. This… compassion he now knew, he could feel her pulling it out of him. He was a different man around Hawke. He was a better man because of Hawke, and he was thankful for that.

So he quietly thanked her, and it was all he could do to keep it together enough to just sit there. He wanted nothing more than to stalk the streets of all the cities in Thedas until every maleficar was destroyed. He wanted to fly up into the heavens and drag the Maker back down with him, so he would have to face Fenris like a man. Is this where the story ends? He couldn't believe it for a second. Everything that had happened up until this point, it wasn't culminating to this. He wasn't ready to give up on her.

Hawke stirred. The group stared in shock for a moment, briefly wondering if they'd imagined it. She coughed. Merrill gasped; Anders immediately stood and walked toward her to stand opposite Fenris, who also rose to his feet. Aveline, Varric and Sebastian approached the table cautiously, staying a few steps back.

"Hawke?" Fenris said quietly.

She coughed again. She shifted her shoulders slightly. She was silent for a few moments, and Fenris found himself holding his breath. She stirred again, then suddenly bolted upright, gasping for air, and looking intent to find somewhere safe to take cover. Anders and Fenris held her arms until her panic subsided a moment later. After taking in her surroundings, she looked to Fenris, who could only stare on in shock. The men let go of her arms, as it seemed she had calmed, though she still looked alarmed.

Hawke looked down for a few long moments. She then reached forward toward Fenris's hand that rested gently on the tabletop. She started to run her fingers along the top of his hand. She was delicate, and he was relieved, as pressure on his markings could be very uncomfortable. She traced the tattoos lightly with her fingers, along the tops of his knuckles, up his wrist and arm. She stopped just below his elbow where his tunic sleeve fell. Where the bandage from where Anders cut his arm laid. Had she lost her memory? Did she even know who they were?

Suddenly, Hawke grabbed ahold of Fenris by the front of his tunic and pulled him into a deep kiss. He couldn't breath, partially due to the shock of it, but also because he'd never felt anything like it. They separated, he was sure, due to lack of oxygen. Hawke looked a bit shocked by what she had done, as did six other pairs of eyes.

She seemed to have trouble finding her voice as she said, "Sorry, that seemed somehow… relevant." She lowered her eyes, looking a little confused.

Fenris took a moment, still dazed. Brash, he thought. Then scooped her up by the neck and pulled her into him again, taking more time to enjoy it this time. The others looked on, beyond confused. He didn't worry about them, however, because this was right. Hawke and Fenris together was right, and all the time before was completely incorrect. But he couldn't curse himself for having been slow to act, because now was all that mattered. Every future moment where he was with her, which would be every one, was all that mattered.

Varric spoke first, "What's a… going on here, guys?"

"Just… catching up," Hawke said, smiling. This caused Fenris's heart to lurch in his chest. His mouth pulled into a weak smile that only threatened to release the wetness that had been building in the corners of his eyes. He returned the smile, though he was perplexed. How was she making jokes?

Hawke swung her legs over the side of table, Anders and Fenris stabilizing her as she didn't quite realize her own unsteadiness. As Hawke moved, Fenris caught his first good glimpse at Anders. Other than looking deathly pale and tired beyond all reason, he also looked… devastated. Hawke regained her poise and then looked around at them all.

"I'm assuming you all… saved me?" she asked, only receiving a general 'I guess' vibe from the crowd as an answer.

"Aveline, are you crying?" she asked, concerned, and opened her arms to the warrior. Aveline approached her and took the hug gratefully, patting Hawke on the back cautiously as she wept lightly onto her shoulder.

"Just happy to see you… not dead, Hawke," Varric clarified, also sounding a little choked up.

"Oh, was I  _dead_?" she asked, "That's quite bad…"

"Do you remember what happened, Hawke?" Sebastian asked.

"It was the prophet, right? What happened to her?"

"I… took care of her, Hawke. She's dead," Fenris said.

"But I called dibs," she joked again. Aveline let out a bark of laughter and the others chuckled, relieved that Hawke was, quite obviously, feeling herself. Fenris couldn't believe it. It was like the happy, playful Hawke that she had been right before the filthy maleficar had cursed her had just come right back and started up again. She hadn't been there, though, he realized. The blood had been cleaned up, the empty potion bottles discarded, all evidence cleared. She didn't know what they'd done. It was going to ruin her.

Aveline stepped aside and let Sebastian and Varric in for hugs. The crowd had cleared enough that Hawke now had a view of Merrill who still sat at the table, looking almost guilty.

"Merrill?" she asked, looking to the others.

"Merrill saved you, Hawke. Well, along with Blondie… and with an assist from your uh… suitor?" Varric sounded quite confused.

"Ok…" Hawke said, sounding like she wasn't sure she was ready for the full explanation.

"Thank you, Merrill," she said sincerely. The elf nodded and rose to stand with the rest of the group.

"And Anders," she said turning to him. He smiled gently, though he looked like he might to pass out at any moment.

"And Fenris," she said, but looked directly to his bandaged arms. Concern crossed her face. Not the kind brought on by confusion or ignorance, but the kind brought on by panic and guilt.

And she asked, "What did you guys do?"


	16. Thanking Anders

When Hawke awoke, it was night. Whether that meant  _still_  night or night  _again_ , she wasn't sure. After her companions had left, save Fenris, she found herself completely overwhelmed with the guilt of what they had been made to do. She didn't hear the entire story until then, Fenris agreeing to tell her only if she promised to try and get some sleep. She couldn't sleep though, she felt panicked beyond the ability to be reasoned with. However, Fenris had Orana draw her a bath, Bodahn make her a meal, and then lulled her into security by offering to hold her until she fell asleep.

It had worked, apparently. She felt his arms still secured tightly around her, and she felt quite safe. Sleep didn't change what her friends had done, though. She didn't hate them for it, of course not. She'd have done the same for any of them. But they weren't supposed to be on the ones having to do it. She protected them, not the other way around.

She stirred and turned to look up at Fenris, who smiled at her.

"You're awake?" she asked.

"I couldn't sleep… I kept wanting to make sure you were still… breathing," he admitted.

"Ah. Because of how I wasn't, and all that?" she asked.

"Right," he said quietly, then after a moment, "Where were you?"

In all the discussing they'd done the night before, they had never moved past the 'made my friends perform powerful blood magic rituals to save my life' thing.

"I don't know… it was peaceful. But wrong, in the end," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked, tracing the line of her jaw with his fingers. Hawke found this very distracting, but managed to continue.

"There wasn't anything… visible. All I could do was think. So I figured, if I'm allowed to think, I need to use it somehow. And…" she was truly at a loss for how to describe it, "I kept thinking about you. And when I asked myself why, I had the answer, I guess. To leave that place, I had to want to stay alive."

"I love you, Hawke," he said suddenly, almost casually, as if it was a fact they'd discussed a thousand times before, "And I don't want you to think it's because you almost died in my arms the other night… I should have said it a long time ago. I felt it a long time ago."

"It didn't need said," she said, taking his hand in hers, "I love you too."

He kissed her deeply then let her nuzzle into his chest, kissing the top of her head as she did. She couldn't help but think of how different she felt. Not from having almost died… or actually died, it appeared… but from having her feelings for Fenris finally said. And, due to her intense need to tell Fenris  _immediately_  once she awoke, everyone else knew too. Convenient. As she ran her hand up Fenris's arm to pull him closer she felt a reminder of her guilt.

"Fenris," she said, looking at the bandages, "Why did they use your blood?"

"It's more powerful, apparently. Due to great innocence or tragedy. I'm guessing for me, it's the latter," he said.

"You could have died."

"It wouldn't have mattered. If I hadn't, and you'd died... it'd be over for me. I'd have died either way."

"Why didn't Anders heal you?" she asked, concerned the goings-on had caused them some kind of permanent separation.

"He spent it all on you, Aralynn. I'd almost not be surprised if he could never cast a spell again," Fenris said. She felt her heart sink out through her chest, down through Darktown and the undercity, and lodge itself deeply in the roots of the Vimmark Mountains.

"Sorry," he said, realizing how his statement sounded, "I don't mean that literally, Aralynn. He's fine, he'll be fine."

He ran his fingers along her creasing forehead and said, "He needs time to recover, but he'll be himself before you know it."

She nodded reluctantly. After a few moments of contented silence, she said, "Just to lay down some ground rules for the future – no offering your blood up as a sacrifice to save me anymore."

"I can't agree to these terms," he said resolutely.

"I wasn't done," she said, then felt his hands on her waist as he began to tickle her.

"No, you are done, actually," he said as she giggled and attempted retaliation. She felt her heart lurch as she saw him laughing. Who was this Fenris? The Hawke from four years ago wouldn't believe it for a second, and yet here he was, holding her in his arms, having confessed love for her. She smiled to herself now as she thought about how lonely she'd felt only a month before, sitting alone in the dining room. She'd only add one chair to her long, empty table, but it would be enough. Now at least, whatever else happened, it would be with him.

"But, truly, thank you, Fenris," she said, and he kissed her forehead.

And now, she thought, she had some other people to thank.

After consuming more food than was reasonable for any creature on Thedas, Hawke dressed in her leather armor, not feeling quite up to carrying her plate around. Fenris had more than voiced his opinion that she should continue to rest and visit them later, but Hawke had things to say she didn't feel could wait. Every moment mattered now, somehow more than it did before. Nothing like dying to make you appreciate living, Hawke thought, strapping her far less preferred short sword to a sheath on her hip. Hopefully the weapons and armor were a caution, it was only a walk to Darktown, after all.

She stepped outside, the rising sun casting warm light on her face. The whole process had apparently only taken a day. Was it really only one night before that she laid dead on these very cobblestones? As she walked she made a point to keep in the sunlight, it made her feel alive, warming her still clammy skin, and she could feel it healing her soul. She kept trying to think of what she was going to say to Anders, but emotion overwhelmed her and she pushed the words back down. She had always been close with the mage, but from the sounds of it, he had gone entirely above and beyond extending himself for her.

She pushed the door open to Anders' clinic, and surprisingly she didn't see anyone inside, save the mage himself. He sat by the fire near the back of the room, lost in thought. She approached him slowly and went all but unnoticed as she sat down on the dirt next to him. They were silent for a long time. Dark patches of sleeplessness plagued the skin under his eyes, and his beard had grown thicker in neglect, pieces of loose blonde hair wisped in his face. He looked sickly, pale, ten years older. This reminded Hawke of her dream, how young they all looked. What was she doing to these people? That sense of guilt began to build up inside her again, though guilt was not a word worthy of the feeling. It was devastating and dire and painful.

She wondered, quite seriously, if they wouldn't all be better off if she just left without a word. She knew they would be upset, but maybe at least they would be able to get on with their lives while they still had a chance at them. She was dragging them down with her. And as she watched her dearest friend, looking like he had been the one who died, she couldn't help but feel that leaving was truly the right thing to do. She took his hand quietly, both still staring into the fire.

"We made the choice Hawke," Anders said suddenly, "This isn't on you."

He held her hand tighter and turned to look at her, "You can't believe I'd let you die, if I had any means with which to save you?"

"You've said it yourself, Anders. There are some fates worse than death. If saving me has corrupted all of your souls, you can't think it was worth it?" she implored.

"I'll be fine, Hawke. I  _am_  fine," he said turning back to the fire. She had to fix it, how could she fix it? Would things ever be like they were before? What would they all be doing now, if they'd never met her? Aveline would be better off, she thought. Likely still guard captain, but without the implications that she was fraternizing with a vigilante, unemployed noble. Would Bartrand and Varric have even made it to the Deep Roads? Varric would be without the memories of his brother gone mad, having to kill him with his own hands. He'd still have a family. Would Merrill have even come to Kirkwall? Without the encouragement of Hawke's protection, maybe she would have stayed with the Dalish and continued her path as a Keeper, instead of heading down whatever this dangerous road was she was on. Anders would still be right here, she knew. Healing the sick and dying, and helping the mage underground. But not sitting here alone, destitute, struggling with his inner demons and looking like he was on death's door.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, honestly curious.

"Apparently no wants to hang out if they're not getting healed out of the deal," he said, sounding a little deserted.

"I'm sorry," she said, and scooted closer to him, "Thank you for doing what you did, Anders. I don't mean it to come off like I'm not appreciative of your sacrifice."

He didn't say anything, so she continued.

"I only wish for you to think of yourself, sometimes as well. You help all these people and it's wonderful," she took his chin with her other hand and forced him to look at her, "You're a good man, Anders. Don't let this poison you."

He looked up at her now, so fierce and callous, yet his eyes filled with wetness. A life that could have been suddenly flashed before her eyes. A life with Anders. Was there more going on here than she realized? Was this Anders… heart broken?

She sat in silence and let the notion sink in. She figured she could see it, in hindsight, but she had always felt it a formidable friendship, and never questioned it beyond that. She loved him, she knew, but not that way. Not in the powerful, insatiable way she loved Fenris.

And the realization on her face must have been obvious, because he said, "If he hurts you, Hawke… I'll end him."

"You can trust him," she said intently. His head nodded almost imperceptibly, and though his resentment still showed, she could tell he agreed, however reluctantly. She didn't know exactly what had happened between the men while she was… sick… but they seemed somehow closer. Rivals, she was sure, but their shared experience seemed to have bonded them permanently.

"Will you stand by me through anything?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes. You know I will, Anders. I would have before, I will now, and I will in the inevitable future where we all have even more difficult problems to face," she said. He inclined his head in recognition, that he believed her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug, and he let her, resting his head on her shoulder in fatigue.

"I'm sorry for what you had to do, Anders. The kind of control you needed to muster… it must have been grueling," she said.

"One good thing came of it," he said fatefully, "Now I know what I'm capable of."


	17. Reconciliation

Hawke was surprised, as she walked down the steps towards the docks, to find tears running down her cheeks. A lot had happened in the two days, she supposed, and her mind was still working on processing it all. She dreaded the moment when it caught up and the full wrath of her emotions would be released. So, why not pile on some more, she thought, as she headed towards the Alienage. She wiped the wetness from her face as she turned to go down the steps. Despite it's air of destitution, the alienage was actually quite beautiful. The vhenadahl, or 'tree of the people', as she'd been told, was planted in homage to the elves' homeland. Its base, almost six meters around, had been painted red with white designs reminiscent of the facial tattoos the Dalish wore. The vhenadahl's canopy created beautiful dancing patterns of light on the ground, and Hawke found herself entranced by them as a figure approached her.

She inclined her head to her, "Merrill."

"Hawke," the elf said, a smile pulling at her lips.

"Just enjoying the view," she said, "Should we sit?" Merrill nodded and the two sat side by side on the steps, watching the people of the alienage go about their day. They sat in silence for a few moments, then Hawke reached into her pouch and handed Merrill the Arulin'Holm. Merrill just stared at it briefly, then gratefully took it from her.

"Thank you, Hawke," she said, stunned.

"You've… more than earned it, Merrill. Thank you for saving my life," Hawke said earnestly, "But, promise me something."

"Of course."

"Just… be careful. I don't know what you need it for, and I probably don't want to know, but please be careful," Hawke said.

"I will," Merrill smiled. Things would never be the same between her and Merrill, she knew. The two had their differences, but they all did, it's part of what made them strong as a team. Merrill's studies, however Hawke disagreed with them, saved her life, and she was grateful for that.

"So, Hawke, now that you're alive again, we may want to discuss more thoroughly this whole 'one of many' thing," Merrill said casually, "It sounds like a very dangerous creature."

"Yes," Hawke nodded, "And you think it's still out there somewhere?"

"More than likely."

"Alright, catch me up."

They crossed the alienage courtyard and went into Merrill's hovel. Inside, books and scrolls were sprawled across almost every surface.

"I went and got a few books from Keeper Marethari," Merrill said casually as she crossed the room and headed toward a table near the fire.

"I see that…" Hawke said in surprise, apparently Merrill had been doing some research since last night. Fenris had informed Hawke briefly on what they'd discovered about the origins of the prophet and her flock, but she still didn't fully understand it.

"I should have come to you before, Merrill," Hawke said in realization, "I don't know what I was thinking, I could have saved lives…"

Merrill dug through a stack of books, "The vials they found on the prophet were what clued me in, I wouldn't have known any more about it than you, Hawke."

Hawke looked at the images on some of the open books as Merrill furiously started flipping open more and more of the tomes. She ran her fingers along the pages, not believing the ink. Depictions of massive slaughters, secret summoning rituals, blood, blood and more blood. And a beast so gruesome, she had never seen the likes of it before. It looked like an enormous hunger demon, but with the body parts of other creatures attached haphazardly.

"This is the Belhim'irsa?" Hawke asked.

"Yes, that's what is created from the ritual… a type of… halam'lin demon?" Merrill said, then answered Hawke's next question, "Literally it means final blood."

"It's a specific kind of demon?" Hawke was shocked, "Like pride or rage?"

"Yes," Merrill skimmed the page, "There isn't a proper word for it… it's like hunger for power, ambition, sort of, but with the desire to control others or rule over them."

Hawke sighed, already exhausted by the prospect of fighting a type of demon she had never even heard of.

"I've done some more research, Hawke, and I think this thing is more powerful than we originally anticipated… I think the kind of power needed to summon this beast would have had to come from some  _very_  trained and educated mages. Magisters, maybe?" Merrill said quickly, seeming eager to discuss the matter with someone else.

"So in addition to the beast, we need to hunt down the maleficarum who created it?"

"No," Merrill shook her head and flipped the book open towards Hawke so she could see the page, "It looks like the process actually… consumes… those who participate."

Hawke looked at the page, the image showing a sketch of a beast at the center of a dozen or so humans whose faces and bodies were warped and stretched upwards, wavy lines of red and blue connecting them to the creature.

"So the mages that performed this ritual to summon the… ambition… demon… became a part of the demon?" Hawke clarified.

"Yes," Merrill nodded gravely, "Which I can only assume would give it great power."

"How do we know how many… participated?"

"We don't, it could be three mages or thirty mages."

Hawke sighed, "There's…  _so_  many issues with this, Merrill, but first and foremost - how are we ever going to find it? It could be anywhere by now, it could be half way across Thedas."

The elf grabbed something off the table and then held up a vial of red liquid. Hawke realized it was the potion the prophet had used to cast the spell on her.

"I can use this to track it," Merrill said.

"Like a phylactery?"

"Yes. The creature uses it's own blood in addition to those of the innocents when it creates the potion," she declared.

Hawke shook her head, "I thought phylacteries just glowed as they got closer to the person – how will that help us?"

Merrill grabbed at another, smaller tome on the desk and handed it over to Hawke. The first thing she noticed was the small hole directly in the center of the book that ran all the way through. She flipped it open to find it was a map, an atlas of sorts, of all of Thedas. She shook her head.

"I don't get it."

Merrill smiled, she always found this kind of thing very exciting, "You put the book down, pour the blood there," she pointed to the hole, "And the blood finds its way into the pages to indicate where its host is. Well it isn't quite  _that_  simple, there are some spells involved, but that's the gist of it. Then you just… well, flip through every page till you find it."

Hawke flipped through the book in shock, thinking she would find bloodstains from previous uses, but it must... clean up… she thought.

"The ancient elves were very talented," Merrill boasted.

"This is incredibly powerful, Merrill, do you know what the Templars would do to have something like this?" she asked.

"Well, let's make sure not to tell them about it then," Merrill piped. Hawke nodded in agreement, still quite surprised.

She didn't really have to think about whether or not to go after the beast. All the grief this creature had caused her and those she cared about, all the innocent people it was responsible for murdering. The destruction it was capable of creating. It had to be found. She had to be the one to strike it down. But she couldn't do it herself. Fenris would join her, she was sure, and likely Merrill, but it wouldn't be enough. She needed them all, and they needed to be united, completely. That included Anders and Fenris. Anders and Merrill. Fenris and Merrill. She thanked the Maker for Aveline, Varric and Sebastian, they were so...  _easy_  in comparison.

She dreaded the conversation she would have to have with them. They would insist she needed rest, needed to recover. Certainly poor Anders needed a break, she thought. Would they even want to go? Aveline had duties, responsibilities. Anders already made it clear he didn't want her chasing this thing all over Thedas.

But what she really couldn't muster was the strength to ask them to help her again. Wasn't what they'd done enough? Couldn't she just sit quietly in her estate for a few weeks and try really hard to not endanger their lives?

"So," Merrill interrupted her thoughts, "Should we find it?"

"Yes," Hawke said, "But let's wait a couple days, let everyone recover."

Merrill nodded in understanding but looked a little like a child who had been told they couldn't go outside to play.

"In the mean time, learn all you can about the creature. I'd like to have an idea of what kind of plan we'll need when I pitch it to everyone," Hawke instructed, "Thank you, Merrill."

"You're welcome, Hawke," the elf said, still clutching the book, and gave her a genuine smile, "I like being part of the team again."

"Maybe we'll get together at the Hanged Man in a few days, when we're feeling a bit more ourselves," she suggested as she headed toward the door.

"I'd like that," Merrill smiled as she opened the door to let her pass. Hawke found herself hugging the mage, who was quite surprised.

"And thank you for the life-saving," Hawke said as she released the hug. Merrill smiled widely, appreciating the gesture. Hawke knew she didn't like the idea of waiting to track the beast, but it was the right thing to do. After seeing the way Anders looked today, she thought it might be weeks before he was fully recovered, and the amount of blood Fenris lost was significant, or so she'd been told. And honestly, she didn't think any of them were of a mindset to fight that kind of battle right now. She certainly wasn't, and as she nodded goodbye to Merrill and crossed under the protective arms of the vhenadahl, she knew she would sleep for days.


	18. Forcing Friendship

"I think you need to spend some time with Anders," Hawke said as she entered the bedroom. Fenris just gaped up at her from the edge of the bed as he finished strapping his pauldron on. As appealing as armored Hawke was, Fenris thought, Hawke in just a tunic was downright alluring, and he found himself just staring at her as she rubbed her wet hair with a towel. She's done this on purpose, he thought.

"I know you're serious, but I'm going to say this anyway. Are you  _serious_?" Fenris asserted.

"I am," she said definitively and plopped down next to him on the edge of the bed, "It's important to me that you two… get along. Or… tolerate one another at least. Destroying this creature is going to be… difficult, and we need to be at the top of our game. Air all our grievances. It's been a few days, I'm sure he's feeling more himself. Just go see if he wants to… hang out."

"I just want to clarify, you want me to go ask Anders on a date?" Fenris asked, pulling his other pauldron on.

"Sure, if calling it that makes you feel better," Hawke quipped, "I know you guys aren't going to agree on everything, that's not what this is about. Just, try to see things from his perspective."

"And what of him? Should he not see things from my perspective as well?" Fenris stood, which prompted Hawke to also. She took his hands and faced him.

"I think it's called… being the better man. Or something like that," she said, planting a light kiss on his cheek.

"If it pleases you," Fenris agreed, though reluctant. Was this truly about them working well together as a team, or did Hawke just want her best friend and… whatever he was… to get along? Hawke just looked at him expectantly, and he tilted his head at her. Now, it seemed.

"I'll be going, then," he said, and she smiled.

"Thank you," Hawke said, granting him another kiss and turning toward the wardrobe. He'd rather stay and watch her dress… he thought, but decided it best to do her bidding. He didn't mind it, his primary life focus was now Hawke's happiness, and if spending a day with the silly mage would content her, then it would be so.

And so he found himself face to face with the apostate, Darktowners looking on as if they thought there was about to be a brawl.

"I'm assuming this is Hawke's doing?" Anders accused.

"Can't a barefoot, lyrium-imbued elf just want to spend some time with his renegade apostate friend?" Fenris growled, repeating a phrase the mage had used to describe the pair.

"Your memory is impeccable," Anders observed.

"Slaves don't forget things," Fenris rumbled.

Anders looked like he was considering the proposal for a few moments, then said, "If it pleases her."

Fenris inclined his head. They continued to stare at one another.

"What are we doing, then?" Anders asked. Fenris made a faint shrugging gesture.

"You invited me, Broody, you're supposed to have the plan," he accused.

"I have no plan," Fenris said simply.

"Well great," Anders said. They continued their face-off.

"We should air our grievances," Fenris said finally.

"Oh – those. Great idea, I don't think we've argued enough about magic lately," Anders retorted, "Ok – let's start with how you think Knight-Commander Meredith is  _doing her_   _job well_."

Fenris set his jaw, trying to control his anger and think of a peaceable answer, "I think Aveline would agree with me."

"Well maybe we should just take a  _poll_ ," Anders retorted snarkily. After a few moments, however, Fenris raised an eyebrow and looked up at the mage, who had done the same.

 

********************************************************

"Aren't you supposed to be having some quality time?" Aveline asked, sorting through the papers that sat on the desk of her office.

"How is this not quality time?" Fenris insisted.

"We're settling our arguments. Via poll," Anders clarified, as if it was perfectly obvious that this justified it.

"So you want me to tell you whether or not I think mages or templars will win?" she questioned, seeming very suspicious.

"Yes. Or who you think is  _right_ ," Anders said.

"Those are two different questions," she pointed out.

"Ok, how about, who's better for Hawke?" Fenris suggested, gaining a glare from the mage.

"Alright, I am a high ranking government official of Kirkwall, I do not answer questions like this, you two are being utterly ridiculous, get out of my office."

 

********************************************************

Sebastian thought long and hard, standing with his arms crossed, staring off into the distance. Brothers and Sisters of the Chantry passed quietly behind him as Fenris and Anders looked on, awaiting his response.

"Anders for the first one, Fenris for the second one…. And Fenris again for the third," he said finally.

"Oh come on, man!" Anders proclaimed, earning some curious looks with his outburst.

"The Chantry boy can't lie," Fenris goaded the mage with his victory.

 

********************************************************

"Is this whole poll thing really helping you guys bond?" Merrill piped, wiping some dust out of her hair. She'd didn't really look like she'd slept or bathed for days. She must really be getting into her research, Fenris thought.

"I'm not sure this is what Hawke meant," she said reservedly.

"We may be taking some liberties," Anders admitted. Fenris could only smile.

"Are you guys drunk?" she asked suddenly.

"Not yet," Fenris growled, thinking it sounded like an excellent idea.

"So, what's the verdict?" Anders asked.

Merrill flushed a little bit, "I don't know… but, I like beards. Sorry, Fenris."

"Ha!" Anders boasted and Fenris gave him a level look.

"You thought you were going to win that one, didn't you, elf?" Anders then turned to Merrill and gave her a faux salacious look, which she returned with a disgusted grimace and turned to go back to her books.

 

********************************************************

"Hmm," Varric said, stroking his chin as if he didn't lack the beard most dwarves sported, "Hmmmmm…"

"Come on, Varric," Anders said, and Fenris swore he saw the man puff out his chest.

"That's a tough one guys, Fenris is quite strapping, but Anders could be scrappy… and quite volatile, with that whole abomination thing going on."

"Oh come on, I can phase through things," Fenris contended.

"And yet you  _never do_  unless it's to rip someone's heart out," Anders retorted.

"We never defined the rules," Fenris affirmed.

"I'm pretty sure the rules behind who would win in a  _fist fight_ , are  _FISTS_ , Fenris," Anders said. Fenris just shrugged.

"I know!" Varric said suddenly, looking pleased, "A trial run, just try it out, see what happens. Then you'll have your answer."

The thought was tempting, Fenris had to admit. What better way to air your grievances than to punch each other senseless? However he felt like this would get him in trouble with Hawke, but also… he didn't actually want to  _punch_  the mage. He wanted to shake the man until the all the mage parts fell out. Then he thought he'd have a pretty decent guy left over.

And then a thought struck him that somehow never had before. Anders didn't  _choose_  to be a mage. He didn't select it, not like Fenris had picked a greatsword, or Sebastian his bow. He was his own weapon, and with that came responsibilities and consequences that other fighters did not have. And as he looked up past the laughing Varric, he saw Anders, looking back at him as if he had come to much the same conclusion about Fenris. He didn't choose to be a slave with a sordid past and tattoos that gave him unnatural powers. Those things were done to him. They were more alike than either of them realized.

Which meant, it seemed, that it was time to enact Merrill's plan. After out-drinking the dwarf, who had a significant head start on them, they sat side by side at the bar. Fenris was more used to drinking wine and thus was not aware of how many ales it would take to become intoxicated. This many, minus like, eight, Fenris thought, his head spinning despite no real effort.

"So, she left me there with Justice to defend the Keep, we were  _highly_  successful, the men challenged me to a drinking contest, and I lost. And that was the last time I was this drunk," Anders finished his story, "Yours was better."

Fenris shrugged and said apologetically, "It's hard to beat pirates."

"Yeah," Anders consented, "Any story involving pirates basically wins."

The two laughed at themselves and finished off their drinks.

"I am… happy, for you and Hawke," Anders announced suddenly. This sobered Fenris a bit and he turned to look at the man.

"I should clarify, I'm happy that Hawke is happy," he said, and Fenris smiled.

"Thank you," Fenris said.

"I informed Hawke of this, but, I guess we're pals now so you should know too," Anders said, "But if you hurt her, I'm going to kill you."

"I know that, mage," Fenris laughed, though he knew the mage's sentiment was quite likely not a joke.

"Also, if you die, I'm going after her," Anders said with determination, and Fenris could only laugh again, "But like right away, I will not wait an appropriate amount of time to allow for grieving."

The stupid mage was quite funny, at least. Fenris realized that, despite how different they were, they did have one thing in common. They both loved Hawke. Maybe it would be enough.


	19. Plan of Action

Hawke couldn't tell for sure, because the two were so,  _very_  drunk, but as Fenris and Anders practically giggled their way through her front door, she couldn't help but wonder if it'd worked.

"Did you know that Fenris can  _knit_?" Anders announced proudly.

"No, I did not. But thank you,  _so much_  for telling me," Hawke laughed, filing that away for future use. Anders stumbled a bit, so she helped the mage onto the lounge by the fire. He all but fell asleep on the way down. She stood up and turned to find Fenris hovering close behind her. He took her hands to pull her closer and kissed her.

"Hi," he said, reaching up to brush a loose piece of hair out of her face, "You're pretty."

Hawke did everything she could to keep from bursting out in laughter. She had never seen Fenris so drunk. At least, so  _happy_  drunk; his drunk was usually one derived from anger, hatred or self-loathing.

"Get a room," Anders managed, as he rolled over into a very uncomfortable looking face-first position. Hawke smiled as she helped Fenris up the stairs and into bed. She tried to remove some of his armor, at least the pieces that would cause soreness come morning. He fought her though, sitting up occasionally to try and kiss her. He was asleep by the time the process was done however, and Hawke laid her head down on his chest and listened to his soft snoring.

She didn't know what happened to the two that afternoon, but she was happy it seemed to have done some good. At least the last words they spoke to each other weren't sneers and growls, which was an improvement. More than an improvement, she thought as she remembered the way the two were laughing and patting each other on the back. She only hoped they remembered it, come morning.

And then it  _was_  morning, sunlight trickling in through the slats on the windows. She kissed Fenris on the forehead and rose, donning her leather armor and making her way downstairs to the kitchen. When she came back out, Anders had woken up and was holding his head in his hands. She smiled and walked over to offer him the drink she'd prepared for Fenris, she could make another after all.

"It'll help," she said, gesturing with the glass. He looked up gratefully and took it, gulping half down in one go.

"Thanks Hawke," he said, his voice gravely. He stood wearily, smiling at her.

"Good man," he said, and Hawke smiled in agreement. Anders gulped the rest down and handed her back the glass. He smiled, inclined his head to her and turned to go, looking quite chipper. Hawke felt a burden lift off her heart. Seeing Anders smile like that wasn't her intention, but it was quite a rewarding, if unexpected, side effect. She started to turn to go back upstairs only to find Fenris standing behind her. He kissed her lightly on the neck, then took her hand and spun her toward him.

"Why hello," she said.

"Good morning, love," he said, giving her another light kiss and keeping her close to him.

"I… made you a drink," she said, gesturing with the empty glass she held in her other hand.

"I see how it is," he jested lightly, then resigned, "Looked like he needed it more than I do."

She smiled at him, "So, am I going to have to fight Anders for your affections now?"

He grinned fiercely and pulled her closer, "Maybe, I'm awfully alluring."

"Yes," she smiled and kissed him deeply. Before she knew it, the elf had scooped her up in his arms and was carrying her back upstairs.

When Hawke woke the next day, her patience had worn out. She needed to talk to Merrill, make a plan, gather the group and slay the demon. All in a days work, she thought, careful to not wake Fenris as she climbed out of bed. Though she knew she wouldn't get to the slaying demon part of the scenario, she needed to start the process. She was feeling restless.

After eating a quick meal, she spent the morning going around town asking her friends to meet at her estate that evening. She tried to spend some time with each of them, to get a read on where their heads were at. Aveline was stressed, the lack of a viscount made her job much more difficult. She was determined as always, however, and seemed more than ready to climb out of her pile of paper work and take arms again. Sebastian was at peace, as always. She took a minute while she was there to have a discussion with the Maker. She never liked calling it 'praying', the term felt so futilely one-sided. Anders was healing a young boy when she arrived. He seemed fulfilled and happy to see her, which was a relief beyond all measure. Varric was contented, though a little bored. He insisted Bianca was furious with him for not getting to kill anything for weeks. Merrill was… Merrill. Pacing about, apparently trying to explain everything she'd learned about the demon to Hawke in the shortest, most disjointed sentences she could muster.

"I think we're ready, Merrill," Hawke announced once the elf seemed to wind down a bit.

"Excellent," Merrill seemed surprised, but pleased.

Hawke clarified, "We'll meet tonight at my estate, explain things to everyone. And bring the book and… phylactery. If everyone agrees, we'll find its location and go from there."

Merrill agreed and Hawke returned to her estate, Fenris and most of the staff missing. She took the time to enjoy a long bath, a nap, a game of hide and seek with Legion, and a meal that consisted mostly of grabbing randomly at things in the cupboards and consuming them one at a time. She'd never been much of a cook. Fenris returned just before nightfall.

"Go to see Sebastian?" she asked, sitting down on the lounge by the fire and offering him a piece of bread. He sat next to her but only nodded in response and sat quietly.

"Everything ok?" she asked. He had been so… generous… with his affections of late, she didn't expect silent, brooding Fenris anymore.

"Yes," he said reassuringly, then turned and took both of Hawke's hands into his. Her heart about leapt out of her chest at the look he gave her then, so serious and apologetic.

"What is it, Fenris?" she asked, concern growing in her voice.

"I don't want you to think that…" he set his jaw as he searched for the words, "This isn't… like that."

After a moment, Hawke could only manage, "I'm not certain that was actually a complete thought. Can you clarify?"

"It has come to my attention that this is not in fact the proper way to court someone," Fenris said, deadly serious. Hawke fought the smile that pulled at her lips.

"You mean… offering your blood to be used in ritual magic in order to save them?"

"No," he said dryly, having already caught on to her shtick.

"So, the making out in front of our friends part?" He shook his head.

"…is it because I'm  _human_?" Even Fenris had to break his glower for a moment at that one.

"No," he said, and she thought he was blushing now, "I've been… spending the night."

"Fenris, it's ok. That was kind of my point, we aren't exactly normal to start with, why would we care about being proper?"

"It's important that you understand my intentions," he said seriously, "That if you'll have me, I intend to stay with you forever."

Sebastian and Varric burst through the door then, arguing about the best route to Tantervale. Hawke was in shock, was she just proposed to? She looked over to the pair as they approached, oblivious.

"Hawke, seriously," Varric said, "Tell the man that taking the river north would be madness. Wildervale is perfectly safe, and far more direct."

"Oh you know me, Varric," Hawke said, "I've never been farther north than the Viscount's Keep."

"Let's find out where the thing is first before we bother arguing about how to get every place in Thedas," Fenris pointed out diplomatically. Moving on, then, Hawke thought, still a bit stunned.

"I'm just saying, I'd take that route back to Starkhaven," Sebastian continued anyway.

"That's great, you should do that with your fleet of ships when you storm your own castle to take it back, but Tantervale is  _up_  river once you hit the Minanter, so you'd have to get out and walk anyway."

Aveline, Anders and Merrill trickled in as their pointless discussion continued, and Hawke decided to call the meeting to order.

"Alright," Hawke announced, "Information dump, ready? Just jump in if you have questions."

The group quieted a bit and found places to sit around the fire. Hawke exchanged a look with Merrill, then gave her a nod.

The elf started, "The Belhim'irsa was likely created by magisters or other extremely powerful mages, and their bodies and essences were likely consumed in the process."

This gained a few ill looks from the group, and Hawke continued, "There could have been as few as two, and an infinite maximum number of mages that participated in the ritual, each one would have made it more powerful."

"So depending on how many it consumed, it will be comparatively as powerful as that number of mages?" Sebastian asked.

"Yes, quite literally actually," Merrill said, "And this is something new I discovered, Hawke. As a result it seems that it will be able to use magic, whatever abilities those mages possessed, it has now. Fire, Ice, Lightning, you name it."

Aveline sighed, "Wonderful."

Merrill continued, "It appears from the texts that the creature will be quite large, likely over four meters tall. This might be good however, as it means it may not have travelled far. It'll be hiding in a cave or abandoned building."

"Do we think it still has followers?" Anders asked.

"What Blondie means is, will we have to kill its friends, too?" Varric clarified.

"No way to know for sure," Hawke said, "Although we haven't caught wind of any flocks in Kirkwall since the prophet died, so it may not have anyone left."

"I'm going to laugh when we find out that the prophet was just some charismatic lunatic, and there's no beast at all," Varric said. He gained some eye rolls but was largely ignored.

"And this 'trick' we have to find it, what is it exactly?" Fenris asked.

"We can find it using the prophet's vials like a phylactery. It's blood magic, but it's our only way of finding it," Hawke said, looking around the room to gauge their reaction.

"It can't really be worse than last time, right guys?" Anders joked, gaining nods of assent from the others.

"Fighting this creature is going to be very dangerous, and I completely understand if anyone doesn't want to participate," Hawke offered. They just looked at her.

"Ok, so just to be clear, I would lay my life down for every single one of you. And I need you all to be able to say the same thing about everyone else," she eyed Merrill, Anders and Fenris, "We need complete trust going into this."

"Is this the part where we all close our eyes, fall off something, and hope the others catch us?" Varric joked.

"No I think we join arms around a fire, sway, and sing upbeat, yet poignant spiritual songs," Anders clarified.

"I don't sing," Fenris grumbled. Hawke leveled a look at the three of them.

"Hawke, we're at our best when we're in battle," Aveline pointed out, "We may have our differences in life, but in war we're cohesive."

"We're ready, Hawke," Sebastian announced in his princely manner. Hawke gave him a grateful smile.

"One last thing I should mention," Merrill started suddenly, "This afternoon I found another reason this creature is so powerful. Well more an explanation than a reason, I guess," she said, a ghostly look on her face.

"Great, we needed more. Maybe we do need to revisit the 'too dangerous' part of this discussion again," Anders remarked.

"This demon exists both here and in the Fade simultaneously," she said, looking like she was bracing herself for impact.

"You're kidding," Aveline managed.

"No, afraid not. It's able to feed and direct its conscious, corporeal form from the Fade. It's incredible, really," she started as if about to explain why, but gathered from the reactions of the others that it may not be needed. Anders looked concerned, the others just looked shocked. It sometimes felt like they didn't know anything about demons or magic at all.

So they will need two teams, Hawke realized. One to fight the demon, and one to fight the demon in the Fade.


	20. Using the Maps

In Fenris's opinion, there was far too much discussion happening. He was ready to be done with this vile abomination, and the sooner they found out where it was, the sooner they could wipe it from existence.

"Think of it like this, its mind is in the Fade, its body is here," Merrill explained, "We'll need to destroy both, relatively simultaneously."

"Let's discuss the specificity of the term 'relatively'," Anders suggested wryly, seeming concerned by the prospect.

"We can't really talk strategy until we know where it is. Let's do this," Fenris said, inclining his head to Merrill, who nodded in agreement.

"Let me prepare, just a moment," Merrill announced. The group ambled away from the table to let her work and broke into smaller conversations. Fenris was relieved, after he and Hawke had been interrupted, he felt a great sense of burden in not knowing where they stood.

"Aralynn," Fenris said, his voice low and serious, "Are we… ok?"

"Of course, love, you just caught me off guard, that's all," Hawke said holding a palm to his cheek, "I remain at your side."

His heart warmed with this sentiment, it had been what he would say to her when what he meant was 'I love you'. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, gentle but deep. He knew he hadn't been entirely clear - that he meant to marry her, even if it was just the two of them under cover of darkness. And Sebastian, of course, to perform the ceremony.

"The question really is," Hawke whispered, "What will you  _ever_  do about a dowry?" This caught Fenris off-guard and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Apparently he had been clear. He went in to kiss her again but was interrupted.

"Ready," Merrill announced, opening the book up. She flipped until she found the page that Kirkwall lay on.

"The blood will start here, and follow the path the beast took, we'll flip pages to follow it," Merrill explained.

"My coin is on Cumberland, it'd be easy to skirt the coast unnoticed," Varric said.

"I vote Ostwick. Evil things travel east," Anders said, gaining a few eyebrow raises with his logic.

"Who's to say it can't swim? It could be in West Hill or Highever," Aveline joined in.

Merrill began to pour the blood, reciting something in elvish, and the six others leaned over the book expectantly. After the hole had been filled, they watched as the blood seeped up into the pages dramatically, filling them completely. Suddenly it burst off the edge of the pages, but disappeared, not falling on the table underneath. It left a stain behind however, right on the page it was open to. Hawke leaned over the book inquisitively, reading the map to get her bearings. The Planasene Forest, east, just north of the Waking Sea…

"Is that Slaver's Reach?" Sebastian asked in disbelief.

"Right, that makes sense, you said the veil was thin there. That must have been where they did it," Merrill said.

"It returned to where it was created," Anders said, exchanging a look with Fenris, recalling how uncomfortable they had felt there.

"It'd be stronger there," Merrill added.

"Excellent," Varric said, "It'd be too easy for it to be both nearby  _and_  killable."

"It's killable," Hawke said determinedly, "Let's talk strategy.

"Well, the first point of contention is likely the two teams," Aveline said.

"I'll go in," Anders volunteered, though it sound more like a demand, "I've proven I have the resolve to not give in to demons."

"Except the one that's inside you right now," Fenris pointed out.

"That's different,  _friend_ , and you know it," Anders said leveling a look at him.

"Won't you be Justice in the Fade?" Hawke asked.

"Yes, but I'll have influence over him just like he effects me in this world."

"But if you die in there you'll still be made tranquil," Aveline said.

"Then I'll try my very hardest not to. A mage has to go in, there's no way in without one. And there are only two of us. And it isn't Merrill, it's me," Anders said plainly, then turned, "Sorry Merrill."

"No problem," she said timidly. Fenris admired Anders' tenacity. He wanted to get it done, and get it done right. He knew Merrill didn't want to go anyways. When they had gone into the Fade to save Feynriel she had betrayed them, accepting the demons false offer of help for her people. Not a great track record.

"Alright, Anders it is," Hawke said, "I'll go in with him, from what Merrill has told me it sounds like I'll confuse the demon, he'll know his magic was used to kill me, but I… well, I won't be dead."

"If you're going in, so am I," Fenris declared.

"You can't, Fenris, I need you here, leading this team," Hawke said, resolute. Fenris took her hand and knew that she understood what it meant.

"I won't be but meters away, love, and I can't die in the Fade. I won't be in harms way until I'm back at your side again," Hawke said. As if that was supposed to make him feel better. He never wanted her in harms way, not for an instant. But that was definitely not how Hawke lived her life.

"Let's discuss how we can't actually  _kill_  something in the Fade," Anders pointed out.

"Right," Merrill said, chiming in, "You do need to destroy its form, but it's more of a distraction element. The less focused it is on its corporeal form the less it will be able to feed it. You'll need to try and break it down, wear it out so it neglects its body. That will help the team on this side to destroy it."

"It's very likely the creature will try to bargain with you, but we must be resolute. You can't give in to what it offers," Hawke implored, "This is important – we're fairly certain that if you agree to a deal with it, it will consume you much like it consumed the mages that created it."

A silence befell the room, and Fenris was glad. Hopefully the gravitas of the situation was finally starting to sink in.

"We go tomorrow," Hawke said, and the group nodded in agreement. This was it, the closure Hawke was looking for. Slay the demon that slayed her. Fenris realized then that he had never discussed with her the fact that she had placed herself between the prophet and him, thus saving his life. So before going into this, a situation which truly any one of them could not come out of alive, he knew he had some things to discuss with his betrothed.


	21. Return to Slaver's Reach

The sun rose again on Kirkwall, as it had countless times before. It felt different somehow, to Hawke, as she led her companions down the winding steps of Kirkwall toward the gates to the Wounded Coast. She never went into a battle with trepidation; it wasn't that. Was it eagerness to finally gain vengeance for all the innocents murdered? Was it concern for her companions, whom she had promised herself she wouldn't again put in harms way? Or was it a responsibility she felt to be there, in the end, for someone she loved? To not die for Fenris' sake?

She knew if the man had his way she wouldn't even be at the fight, nevertheless travelling to the Fade with Anders. Though she couldn't die there, the creature's persuasiveness would be more powerful in the Fade, it would be harder to resist its offers. He'd never say it, in so many words, but he wanted her safe, and that meant inactive. She appreciated that, truly, and felt similarly about him, but she also knew the world they lived in. Full of evil and hatred, wrongdoings and innocents dying. She wasn't going to sit safely in her Hightown mansion while the world crumbled around her, and she knew Fenris would never be able to do that either. They would go together into battle, this time and every time after, no matter the risks.

So they found their way to the gates of Kirkwall, onto the sandy soil of the Wounded Coast, over the rocky terrain that led them back to where this mess had all started. The sun beat down through thin, wispy clouds, and Hawke smelled a storm on the salty breeze. Upon gaining higher ground, she could see it resting on the Waking Sea, hovering on the horizon ominously. Lightning flashed inside the storm, its true intensity obscured by the bruise-colored clouds. She felt a sudden wind whip her hair away from her face and knew it was rolling its way towards Kirkwall. By the time it arrived, this would be over.

They had formed a loose circle at the cave's entrance, removing their weapons, tightening buckles and busying themselves generally, waiting for Hawke to say something.

"Ready?" was all she could muster. What else to say? That they knew almost nothing about what they would encounter in there? That they were all but winging-it? What they thought they knew was conjecture. It could all be true, it could all be horribly, deadly wrong. They basically knew nothing. And that speech was not good for morale. So she just put an arm around the two next to her, Fenris and Anders. They did the same to those who stood next to them, Anders to Sebastian to Varric to Merrill to Aveline to Fenris and back to Hawke, forming a tighter knit circle.

"This seems like the singing-around-a-fire thing you were talking about, Anders," Varric quipped, feigning discomfort.

"If you think it'll help," Anders said as if about to launch into a tune.

"I don't sing," Fenris grumbled a reminder.

"I think the correct sentiment is, 'I  _usually_  don't sing, but if it helps the group, I  _will_  sing'," Varric corrected.

"Me singing will  _not_ be a beneficial experience for the group, I can guarantee that," Fenris said.

"You should have knitted us matching scarves, I hear uniforms are good for morale," Anders said, gaining a scowl from Fenris.

"Doesn't really help the Guard," Aveline said in resignation.

So now they had it all out there, the jokes that always made them feel better, making light of the darkness that encroached upon the cursed city every day. Hawke tried again, "Ready?"

Each responded in their own way, and yet as one.

"Of course," Anders said.

"I remain at your side," Fenris assured.

"Let's do it," Varric said, confidant.

"Maker be with us," Sebastian offered.

"Ir sulevin, sahlin," Merrill said, as if in prayer.

"More than ever," Aveline assured.

Hawke nodded, took a breath, and lead them into the mouth of the cave. She stopped at a small alcove in the rocks, thirty or so meters before where she knew the wooden door lay, inside which the beast certainly slumbered. She nodded to Anders, this would be where they would stop to enter the Fade. Hawke stole a kiss from Fenris before he continued, and they pressed their foreheads together, so it could just be the two of them for a moment. He brushed her hair lightly out of her face, then continued, leading the others down the winding path that lead to the wooden door. She watched him go, then turned to Anders who had set an empty bowl on the ground and kneeled next to it. She sat on the floor across from him as he got out a large vial of lyrium, pouring the liquid into the bowl.

"Ready for this, Hawke?" he asked, wrapping her hands in his.

"Yes," she assured.

"Remember, don't believe anything it says, in or out of the Fade," he warned, she nodded again and he added, "I'll see you back here when it's done."

A lump crept up her throat when he said that, but she swallowed it down. She knew Anders was strong, and Justice equally so. She only hoped the spirit would do its best to protect the man it occupied. He nodded, held her hands tighter in his, then lowered them into the bowl.

A brilliant flash of light, and she was there. She realized as she looked around that she did not at all recognize the place she was standing in. She had never seen anywhere like it, not that she had done a great deal of travelling in her lifetime. It seemed much like a barn, it's walls made up of many vertical planks of wood. The dirt on the ground was arid, blowing across the place in sheets. Warm, orange light beat in through slats, causing the dust that kicked up to glow like a fog. She turned to find Anders standing next to her, his eyes and skin glowing with the blue light of Justice.

"Do you know what this place is?" she asked the spirit.

His voice rumbled deeply, "This is the origin of Anders."

"Origin? Like, where he grew up?" Hawke asked in shock.

"He was a child in this place," Justice confirmed.

Hawke knew little of Anders' childhood, he never spoke of it. She knew it wasn't a positive experience for him, and realized now that the demon had likely seen his memories and created the Fade this way in an attempt to dishearten the mage. So this is the Anderfels, Hawke thought in astonishment, as she moved forward toward the door of the barn. She swung open the lock and pushed the door open, the intensity of the sunlight momentarily blinding her as her eyes adjusted.

Rust colored sand stretched out in every direction. The sun was unobstructed by clouds, but sand whipped through the air upon the wind, giving a haze to the atmosphere. There was a rocky outcropping here or there, but otherwise just endless desolation. She wondered if this was how it truly looked, or if this was Anders' version of it, warped by terrible memories.

"The demon is there," Justice announced simply, inclining his head toward the flat, empty field that lay in front of them. Hawke raised an eyebrow at him, but figured the spirit knew what he was talking about and headed away from the barn and toward it. As they grew nearer, the ground rumbled lightly under their feet and Hawke stopped.

Ten or so meters ahead of them, the sand began to fall into the earth as if funneling through a sieve that lay underneath. A mass emerged, a dark purple, ethereal haze twisted around it as it rose from the ground. Hawke followed the creature with her eyes as it continued to grow upward, revealing a head, shoulders, and massive chest. It pulled its thick arms out, taloned claws jutting fiercely from the ends of its fingers, each easily thicker than the width of Hawke's upper arm. It pounded it's fists into the sand then hoisted itself the rest of the way out of the ground, revealing it's short, thick legs. It straightened itself out, standing and stretching up to it's full height, at least four meters. The sand closed beneath it and it stood, a misshapen collection of flesh, pieces that looked like arms and legs jutting from it haphazardly, not dissimilar the images she had seen in Merrill's books. Its face looked like that of a pride demon - multiple sunken eyes blinking at her, a jaw full of long, sharp teeth.

Then it spoke, it's voice deep, layered and raw, "This is an interesting turn of events."

It finished turning fully toward them, it's voice still resonating through the air, and Hawke could feel it in her chest.

"Not only do I get a spirit of justice instead of an obstinate mage, but the woman is the walking dead. Very good," it rumbled. If the creature would rather talk than fight, she had no qualms. Theoretically, that would assist the others in dealing with its body.

"And this place, mage," the demon continued, and seemed to shake its grotesque head, "How sad for you."

"My host's memories are none of your concern," Justice said, his tone growing in anger.

"Yes your 'host' - that's a fun trick, isn't it? I'm very curious as to how you managed that," the demon rumbled.

"But let's talk about the warrior for a few moments. She's… curious," it rumbled, turning its many eyes to Hawke, looking her up and down, "Death incarnate, and my own blood killed you, such an enigma."

"You're not as powerful as you think, beast," Hawke replied defiantly.

The demon continued as if she hadn't spoke, "And blood filled with such great tragedy. It will give me immense power when I consume you."

"What makes you think I will let you do that, demon?"

"It will be simple. Once your pathetic friends fail at destroying my body, I will go and find yours. Can't be far from them, you'd never want to be far, too far to protect them. And the mage will be a bonus, his blood is quite powerful as well," the demon sounded hungry.

"You underestimate my abilities," Hawke taunted.

"Should it be a fight then? We were really starting to get somewhere, I thought," the demon said dryly. She stared down the beast, ready to draw her greatsword, though she hoped there would be a way to keep it talking.

"You don't know me, demon, you don't know any of us," Hawke provoked.

"Oh but I do," it jeered, "The elf loves you, but feels inadequate. The dwarf regrets killing his brother, though he'd never admit it. The holy one, he's wonderful – so devout but such a lust for vengeance. The human female harbors a deep concern for you, it distracts her from her duties. The tiny elf mage, oh my, she's full of dark secrets. Careful with her."

Hawke set her jaw. She knew not to believe the beast, that it was trying to goad her into action. She stood her ground. Suddenly, the beast roared as if in pain, and Hawke drew her weapon. It calmed after a few moments, then turned its evil eyes toward her in anger.

"Your lover is an excellent fighter. That hurt," the demon asserted. Hawke felt a surge of hope knowing that her companions were successful. And alive.

"See, it's very important that I carefully read the contents of my food before I consume it," he continued gravely, "For instance, this mage is more difficult to read, shrouded by this filthy spirit. But he…" The demon seemed to be concentrating very hard for a moment.

"He has plans," the beast roared an alarming version of laughter, "Gruesome plans, but he came here ready to die for you, human. Maybe I'll save him for later. In a few years, he'll be far more devastated, give me far more power."

"You don't have years, filth. You have mere minutes," Justice roared. She suddenly felt very alone as she realized that it truly wasn't Anders standing next to her. She knew Justice, she even trusted Justice, but he was definitely not the same man. She was certain that taunt would lead to a fight, and stood ready as the beast stared Justice down.

"Very well," it said resolutely, then leapt forward toward them.


	22. Battle on Two Fronts

Fenris looked to the others, who nodded in approval. He swung the door open. The beast was sitting silently in the middle of the room. The bodies that had been there previously were now gone, likely consumed by the creature, Fenris thought. The barrels of blood remained however, stacked all around the room. Fenris lead them cautiously inside, weapons drawn. He was unable to tell if it was conscious.

"Your friends beat you to me," the creature suddenly spoke, its voice resonating through the cave, dustings of loose dirt and small rocks falling from above. It revealed a trove of eyes on the front of its gruesome face, and opened its mouth, exposing a field of sharp, dangerous teeth.

"It will be simple to toy with them while I destroy you. You probably shouldn't have sent the two most powerful in together, they could have done some damage here, I'm sure," the demon said.

"Actually, Bianca here is the worst of us," Varric said, "Uncontrollable."

Good, Fenris thought, let's keep it talking as long as possible.

"You know, I'm in the mood to both fight  _and_ have a chat," the creature said, beginning to rise from its sitting position. It unfolded to its full height and looked down upon the group, "But I'm already talking to them."

The demon roared, opening its arms wide. They all rolled into cover behind crates or bunks, expecting a spell to flash out from the beast. After a few moments, Fenris carefully looked out toward the creature. Floating around it were streams and streams of blood, and more seeped from the containers around the cave, floating eerily toward the demon, as if it had no weight. He quickly looked to the others, and found Merrill's wide eyes seeing the same thing he was. She caught Fenris's look and turned to him. She just nodded once.

The blood began to swirl around the creature, faster and faster until it became thin, more like light than liquid. It drew the blood toward itself suddenly, then in an instant it burst forth from the beast with tremendous force. It stopped suddenly, as if hitting an invisible wall. Fenris looked to Merrill who was now standing, staff raised toward the demon. She had somehow shielded the spell.

"Go!" she yelled, exertion creasing her forehead. They flew into action. Fenris and Aveline charged forward as Varric and Sebastian let loose a storm of arrows. Fenris couldn't tell the difference, but one aimed for its face and eyes, the other for its feet in an attempt to pin the creature down. Aveline gave a heroic yell of defiance and Fenris felt a surge of confidence as he swung his sword in a wide arc, gaining a glancing blow on the creature's forearm. The demon had a formidable reach, it's arms so long that it's hands hit the ground when standing. It quickly retaliated, tossing Fenris aside with one easy swipe. It roared in pain and Fenris saw that Aveline had taken advantage of the distraction and gained a decent slice to the creature's back.

As he regained his footing, he watched as Merrill threw out her arms and the blood that still hovered in the air crashed against the walls of the cavern. He didn't know what the creature was able to do with that blood, but he knew that in stopping it, Merrill had turned the tide of this battle for them. She immediately thrust her staff outward, tendrils of evil black mist shooting from her and striking the beast directly in its eyes.

Fenris noticed the opportunity, and ran full out toward the beast. He dropped to the ground as he approached it, sliding along the bloody floor, his sword held firmly in his grasp. He slashed the demon's leg almost clean through, causing it to roar and buck in pain. Fenris quickly rose to his feet, turning to flank the beast when suddenly it's skin burst into flame, forcing Fenris to step back from the sudden heat.

At first, he thought it was something Merrill had cast, or that one of the archers had fired a flaming arrow, lucky that the beast was flammable. But as the demon laughed manically, he knew it wasn't that easy. The creature began casting furiously, violent balls of flame shooting from its fists. Fenris ducked one and rolled into cover behind a crate. A wooden crate, however. He knew it wouldn't last him long, so he peeked out of cover to check the status of the others. It seemed they were keen to do the same, though Sebastian's cover caught fire and he rolled behind another, firing arrows furiously as he did. One seemed to strike the beast in the eye, and it pounded the ground furiously with its fists, knocking Sebastian violently off his feet.

Suddenly, the beast was no longer aflame. He turned to look at Fenris, an arrow stuck directly in one of it's many eyes. The air felt cold suddenly, and Fenris heard a cracking sound, much like one might hear as a frozen river broke up. Before he knew it, the creature was covered in a thin sheet of blue ice, standing not two meters from him. It thrust one taloned claw toward him and fired a vicious, inescapable flurry of ice. It happened very quickly and before he knew it the ice had crashed against the cavern wall behind him. He had just  _phased_  out of a spell's path, he thought in shock. Anders would be so proud.

The creature hadn't seen it, thinking the job done and moved on to firing vicious spheres of ice at his companions. They were farther away from the beast and seemed to be able to affectively switch cover as needed. Fenris took the opportunity to try and notice a weak spot on the demon's form. The bulk of its weight seemed to rest on its front side, its spine relatively unprotected by the grotesque layers of flesh that lined the rest of it. He didn't want to, but he knew he had to. He hid back behind the crate. He had to play dead, not catch the beast's attention and wait until he had a clear shot, right down the demon's spine. Suddenly the air in the room warmed and he felt the hair rise on his neck. He stole a glance back the beast, purple and blue light sparking off of it violently. He knew it was coming eventually. Lightning.

 

* * *

 

 

Justice shot his staff upwards, casting a spell that knocked the demon back as it approached them. This infuriated the creature, and Hawke took the opportunity to skirt around to its flank as it roared in defiance at the spirit. She struck it quickly, rolling away again as fast as she could to escape the breadth of the beast's arm span. It barely noticed the slice she had given it as Justice repeatedly beat streams of lightning at its face. She wished the spirit would let up, it'd be safer for Anders if she maintained the creature's attentions.

She wouldn't waste the opportunity though, and drew closer again to its flank, using her momentum to spin into a devastating slash that dug deeply into its spine. The creature roared in pain again, and Hawke realized it was enough to get its attention as it turned furiously toward her. She ducked a violent swipe of the creature's arm. With all its power and size came a degree of slowness that she was quite thankful for as it swung again. She barely missed the impact as she threw herself the ground, but struck up again with her sword, gaining a deep slice into the beast's forearm.

Behind the demon now, Justice fired a series of lightning strikes, seeming to aim for the areas already weakened by Hawke's sword. She rolled away from the beast, swinging up again as she rose to strike a glancing blow on the creature's stomach as it gave chase. Suddenly a fireball shot from the demon's fist and barreled toward her. She dodged it, mostly, receiving only a minor burning sensation on her arm as she fell out of its path. She rolled back to her feet and continued to back away.

The creature reached up and shot a cold blue orb of ice at her, which she was able to skirt almost entirely until it landed at her feet, rendering her immobile. She cursed and struck her blade into the loose sand, attempting to wrench her feet from the obstruction. The demon stalked toward her like a wolf hunting its prey, when suddenly a strikingly beautiful stream of golden light shot from Justice. The light wrapped its tentacles around the demon and pulled it backward, away from Hawke. It growled furiously and swept a backhanded lash at Justice, knocking the spirit prone.

Hawke was finally able to pull her feet out of the unnatural ice and she grabbed her sword and sprinted toward the beast. She knew she had to act quickly, the demon's fists were barreling down toward Justice, toward Anders, and fear sped the beat of her heart. She ran and leapt at the beast, stabbing her sword clean through the creature until the hilt was all that remained.

She knew she wouldn't be able to pull it back out, and she also knew it was too late. She had stopped the beast from killing Justice, but she wouldn't be able to react fast enough. She felt the beasts' wicked claw tear through her. For some reason she didn't think it would hurt. But she felt every inch of skin being torn, every muscle and organ beneath it obliterated by the talons.

And then she was awake, clutching her stomach in pain and screaming for Anders to get out. She turned to the prone mage next to him and shook him, screaming his name, as if it would help. Anders couldn't last long in there by himself. She could only beseech the Maker to allow him safe passage from the Fade. Then she looked up as she heard the demon's shrieks of pain resonate from inside the cave. She stood, grabbing her greatsword and dragging it behind her, stalking toward where her companions battled.


	23. Airing the Truth

After a few minutes of having to unnervingly watch his friends dodge lightning while unable to gain any kind of advantage with the beast, Fenris was able to find his opening. He propelled himself off the crates and leapt at the demon, stabbing his sword into the creature's spine and letting gravity drive the slash downward. The beast roared in surprised pain before Fenris's feet even hit the ground. He saw the others stand from cover to exploit its sudden weakness. Fenris was barely able to pull his sword from the demon in time to duck under its swing. He rolled back between the creature's feet as it twisted violently. He retreated toward Aveline who gave him an approving nod as she raced back in to gain a devastating strike to the beast's uninjured foot.

Suddenly, the creature pounded the ground with immense force. A shockwave whipped out from it, knocking crates and bunks over haphazardly and causing the walls of the cave to crumble. The force threw Fenris and his companions away from the creature a meter or so, knocking them to the ground.

"We never finished our little talk," Hawke's voice suddenly rang out and Fenris looked up to see the warrior marching defiantly toward the demon, sword in tow. Its fists were now dug deeply into the dirt from the force of its strike. She just kept walking toward it, as if unaware of her prone companions, and Fenris worried as he attempted to regain his balance and stand. Was she insane? Anders wasn't with her, he realized. She meant to distract the demon long enough for him to get out safely.

The creature didn't strike out at her violently. It simply removed its fists from the dirt, and stood quietly as Hawke approached it. He saw the corners of the beast's mouth turn up, and it roared a disturbing band of laughter. Fenris watched as the others looked on as well, clearly concerned by the danger Hawke was putting herself in.

"So many people to call companions, and yet, so alone. Your entire family, dead, all those you cared about, until the mage and the elf came along. Such passion for each, I can hardly tell a difference. Though you tell yourself there is one you love more. Maybe we should test that theory?" the demon growled, and suddenly Fenris felt his windpipe close as he was raised from his feet, as if gripped by the neck.

"Leave the elf out of this," Hawke demanded, "You want me, let's talk."

Fenris was dropped to the ground, his ability to breathe restored. What was going on? Was Hawke truly attempting to strike a deal with this demon?

"So worried about them, all your friends. Nonetheless you're risking their safety yet again," the demon chided, "What if I promised their safety? A trade of sorts, I grant them release and I get you. I'll even let out the one that's inside, and trust me, that's his only way out."

Hawke looked furious, and Fenris agreed. The wretched creature was infuriating.

"What will it be? Will you save the life of the man you can't love? What's it worth to you?"

Suddenly the beast roared out in pain, emanating a faint blue light from the folds in its disgusting flesh. After a moment it opened its eyes again, staring seemingly toward Merrill, Sebastian and Varric, looking more furious than ever. Suddenly, Anders, full of Justice, came charging into the room.

"Don't deal with this demon, warrior," Justice said, marching up to stand between Hawke and the creature.

"Anders?" Merrill squeaked, seeming worried that the change may be permanent. The blue light from within him suddenly went out and Anders blinked his eyes.

"Very good trick, mage. Even I didn't think it was possible for you to leave there anyway but Tranquil," the demon growled.

"As you can see, I'm full of surprises," Anders glowered, looking as if he'd expended quite a bit of his energy already. He usually seemed disoriented after having Justice take over his human form, but the man seemed to know precisely what was going on. The demon barked a disturbing bit of laughter.

"New deal, warrior. I want you both. He has power unlike anything I've ever seen," the creature said voraciously. Hawke said nothing for a long while, and the beast seemed to be thinking.

"Alternatively… the two of you live, and I get the rest. After all, you two are slow-cooked meat. You'll be better with age."

Fenris swore, if it were able, the demon would have licked its lips with that statement. Hawke just glared at the creature, the muscles in her jaw tensing and loosening as if she was thinking hard about something, though her expression didn't give anything away.

"What of it, Champion? The safety of those you care about or your own life? You wanted to leave them anyway, to run away and hide to provide them with some chance at safety. Why not do it this way, it's far more dramatic. A tale for the ages, and the dwarf will even live to exaggerate it," the demon said.

"I don't even know how to embellish this," Varric managed.

Leave them? Fenris thought. This was not something he and Hawke had discussed. He felt the discontent roll through the others, though they did a good job of not showing it.

"Let's talk about it," Hawke said and Fenris caught her giving a look to Anders, though he couldn't tell what it meant. He began to grow worried. He trusted her, but he didn't know what had happened in the Fade. She may think this was her only way out, her only way to save them all. They waited, staring each other down.

"You're all a little too spread out for my comfort," the creature announced. They looked at the beast, unmoving. Suddenly the demon emanated a golden glowing light. Anders slammed his staff to the ground, a protective sphere stemming out from it. It grew fast enough to reach Hawke and Aveline but Fenris and the others were suddenly picked up off their feet and pulled unwillingly toward the demon.

Fenris somehow managed to keep his grip on his sword, and dealt the beast a devastating blow to its chest as he was dropped to the ground at its feet. This distracted the beast from the others and it turned its full attention to Fenris in blind anger. He saw Hawke diving toward the beast, likely screaming out to distract it, but it was too late. Fenris looked down, a slice in his stomach, its entire width, and deep through to his spine.


	24. Destroying the Beast

"Well," the demon roared angrily, "That bargaining chip is off the table I guess."

Hawke screamed at the beast as Fenris collapsed onto the dirt. She knew Anders and Aveline were holding her back. They pulled her away, retreating farther from the creature.

"So, Champion," the beast growled, "Are we still in the mood to bargain?"

Varric, Sebastian and Merrill stood, grouping up and slowly moving toward where the others were standing. Hawke felt a calming affect taking place and knew Anders was attempting to relieve her from the shock so she could focus. She slowed her breath and considered the situation. The beast was doing an awful lot of talking, she thought. A suspicious amount, in fact. Had Justice successfully destroyed its form in the Fade? Had her companions here done enough damage that it was weakened? Was it biding its time, hoping she thought the situation futile? She could only hope Anders had caught her look from before, and decided to call its bluff.

It all happened in mere seconds. Hawke stepped forward and Anders staff hit the ground, sending out a violent shockwave that rocked the beast, causing it to lose its balance. Arrows rang past her, striking the beast in its eyes, and disorienting it further. Aveline, shield on her arm, slid into place in front of Hawke as she stepped onto the shield, pressing up with all the force the guard captain could muster and launching Hawke into the air. Simultaneously, Anders and Merrill fueled her jump, allowing her to reach the height of the demon's monstrous face. Hawke took a moment to enjoy its look of shock shortly before she dug her greatsword fully into its forehead. With all the power she could muster, she dragged the sword downward with her, slicing the beast's face in two. She fell backward to the ground below, the impact knocking the wind out of her.

The demon roared, grasping at its decimated face with its talons. The ground beneath them shook violently, but it was no act of either mage. Rocks rolled and the earth cracked beneath the beast, which fell back, clearly dead.

"It's collapsing!" Aveline announced, and she helped Hawke to her feet, "Retreat!"

Hawke couldn't see the others in the chaos, but she saw Anders holding a protection spell upwards toward the ceiling, shielding them from falling rocks.

"Fenris," Hawke managed, and Aveline nodded.

Rain was pouring down as Hawke and Aveline carried Fenris from the mouth of the cave. The ground bucked under their feet and heavy rocks fell from the roof of the cave's entrance, rolling through the path behind them. They laid the elf's body down on the sand as lightning flashed across the sky, the thunder rolling through not seconds later.

It was bad, Hawke knew, now that her initial instincts were wearing off, the ones that had allowed her to not panic long enough to murder the demon and get the man out of the cave. It was very bad. Rain poured down her face as she ripped the plate off her arms, tearing at her undershirt and pressing the ripped fabric to Fenris's stomach. She put as much pressure as she could on the wound in an attempt to staunch the bleeding, but the fabric filled quickly with his blood.

The rain fell in heavy sheets, dampening the sounds of her companions, drowning out the noises of the world. The situation became very clear, in this moment. Fenris writhed in pain, the wound so deep, unfathomably deep. Blood was everywhere, and parts that should not be outside of his body were. Fenris was going to die. She pressed her bloody hand to his cheek to get him to look at her.

"Focus on me," she said and felt the tears leave her eyes, though they were lost in the wetness that fell from the sky. His face pulled into a deep grimace, but he appeared to be trying. Eventually, he locked his eyes on hers, and the world fell quiet, save the steady beating of rain.

"Good, just look at me. Nothing else is happening, it's just us," she assured, tears falling freely down her face now. He seemed to calm a bit, looking at her lovingly. He almost seemed at peace.

"I love you, Hawke," he managed.

"No, Fenris!" she demanded, but it was too late, he was unconscious. She clutched his face in her bloody hands, trying to shake him awake. She felt Aveline grasp her shoulders, attempting to calm her. The sounds of the world crashed back down on her, rain pounded unforgivingly, a nearby strike of lightning causing thunder to roar deafeningly. She heard her companions running about and managed a quick look up.

Everyone had made it out alive, it seemed, all but Anders, who just then stalked out of the cave, rocks rolling behind him and glowing with the fury of Justice. He immediately dropped to his knees at Fenris's side and pressed a hand to his chest, reaching up with the other in an ardent fist. A brilliant emerald light emanated from the mage and Hawke watched in awe as Fenris's smaller wounds closed, one by one. She moved her hand away from his stomach, watching as a band of green light began to encircle the fatal wound, rotating quicker and quicker. How Anders had it in him, she did not know, but as the beautiful light flashed out of existence, it revealed Fenris's stomach, new, pink skin having replaced the gaping wound. And then the mage fell, exhausted, onto the wet sand next to them.


	25. Inescapable

"I'm just saying, Varric," Hawke said as she pulled a few more chairs into the dining room, "Generally when you throw a party, you inform the person whose residence you intend to host it at."

Varric shrugged, "It's always a party at the Hawke estate. Unless it's ritual blood magic."

"Perfect, thank you," Hawke said dryly, tossing a few loaves of bread on the table. Fenris appeared from the cellar, looking far better than he had in the week since they'd returned from the Wounded Coast. Apparently losing most of ones blood twice within a week was taxing on the body. He set a few bottles of wine on the table and turned toward the kitchen.

"I'll get it, love," Hawke said, kissing him lightly, "Please, just sit down."

"Is this like an engagement party?" Varric asked as Fenris took a seat at the table.

"It's  _your party,_ dwarf," Hawke called over her shoulder as she went into the kitchen. Despite being somewhat tired, Fenris had somehow been in quite a pleasant mood in the last week. After talking everything out, quite a bit, the two felt generally good about life, and were looking forward to going back to the general bandit-slaying existence of a few months ago. Fenris had all but moved in, returning to his mansion only to check that another squatter hadn't made claim to it. As well as to start transporting the wine to Hawke's cellar. Hawke definitely preferred him with her, she thought, smiling. She collected a few glasses, and by the time she returned to the dining room, Sebastian, Anders and Merrill had arrived.

Anders was sitting down at the corner of the table across from Fenris, Varric goading the two into an arm wrestling match.

"I've almost died twice in the last two weeks," was Fenris's defense.

"And I've spent all my magic healing you, twice," Anders jested, "So we're even."

"You didn't heal my first wounds, you used my blood to  _fuel_  your magic. I know mages get confused, but that's not helping someone."

"Touché, Broody," Varric said, impressed.

"No, you know what," Fenris added suddenly, "I wield a two-handed steel weapon, let's compare strength if you want to."

Anders recoiled slightly and made a pensive face. After a moment, he shrugged, "Why not?"

The two put their elbows on the table. Sebastian acted as an intermediary, making sure their elbows were equidistance, then held their gripped hands steady and announced the start of the match.

"He could break your arm, that'd be why not," Merrill pointed out, looking a bit afraid that would be the outcome.

"It's fine, I'll just heal it," Anders said, his face quickly turning red with exertion. Fenris was toying with him, Hawke knew, the elf barely seemed to acknowledge that there was pressure on his arm.

She thought about how very lucky they all were to have Anders. How many people in this world had wrongfully died because they didn't have someone like him in their life? Was there even anyone else like him? His ability to heal was remarkable, and Hawke had never met its match in her lifetime.

Aveline and Donnic entered, carrying a large basket of fruit. They set it on the table as Fenris finally put Anders out of his misery, slamming the mage's hand to the table.

"The nobles are retroactively thankful for our contribution to clearing the streets of dangerous maleficarum," Aveline said matter-of-factly, offering an explanation for the basket.

"Fruit?" Sebastian inquired.

"Fruit," she said resolutely, nodding her head.

"Better than silence, which is what we usually get," Hawke added, earning her a few chuckles as she began to pour glasses of wine. Hawke began to pass around the glasses, and everyone started making an attempt to sit down. The dining room was starting to feel cramped, and Donnic must have seen the look on her face.

"I may have also invited some guardsman," he warned. Hawke nodded.

"We'll open it up into the other room then," she said, "Let me clean up in there, we did do a little blood magic the other night." She gave Varric a pointed look.

"What? Bodahn or Orana hasn't got to that yet?" he asked.

"They generally shy away from touching my ritual blood magic stuff," Hawke explained dryly, skirting around Aveline and Donnic and heading back into the main room.

She pushed a few chairs against the wall on her way across the room toward the fire. She stacked a few of Merrill's books on the end of the table, and went to grab the tracking atlas they'd used to find the demon. It was still open to the map of Kirkwall, and she noticed the stain that had marked Slaver's Reach was now gone. She smiled and picked up the book to add it to the stack. As the book fell shut she thought she noticed something stuck in between, as if to mark a page. She opened the book back up randomly, to a page framed by the Frostback Mountains and Lake Calenhad. There was a tiny bloodstain wiped across the town of Haven. She stared at the map incredulously for a few moments, then began to flip furiously through the book. Nessum, Antiva City, another right in the middle of the Korcari Wilds. She kept flipping, finding more and more tiny stains spread all over Thedas – Tevinter, Antiva, Orlais, Rivain, Ferelden, the Anderfels. They were everywhere, all over, ten, twenty, thirty, more.

They didn't notice it before, she thought, they just had the book open to Kirkwall, they never had to flip a page. What did this mean? As she ran through the scenarios in her head, a realization struck her. They were wrong, the mages weren't consumed in the process. But they still created the demon using their own blood, all these people spread all over Thedas. But how?

Something much, much bigger was going on than they ever anticipated. She clutched the book and sat down on the lounge. Legion leapt up, resting his head delicately on her lap. She sighed, resigned. The Champion's work was truly never done.


End file.
